The Wrestler's Body Identity and Ideology in North India Joseph S. Alter Suggested citation: Alter, Joseph S.

The Wrestler's Body: Identity and Ideology in North India. Berkeley: University of California Press, c1992. http://ark.cdli b.org/ark:/13030/ft6n39p104/ Note on Translation I have made every effort to ensure that the translation of m aterial from Hindi to English is as accurate as possible. All translations are m y own. In citing classical Sanskrit texts I have referenced the chapter and vers e of the original source and have also cited the secondary source of the transla ted material. All other citations are quoted verbatim even when the English usag e is idiosyncratic and not consistent with the prose style or spelling conventio ns employed in the main text. A translation of single words or short phrases app ears in the first instance of use and sometimes again if the same word or phrase is used subsequently much later in the text. Transliteration has been done with an eye toward readability and simplicity. Diacritics are excluded from the text but have been included in the glossary. Although the common language spoken in Banaras is Bhojpuri, almost everyone also speaks some version of Hindi, Urdu, or a combination thereof. All of my interviews were conducted in Hindi. Therefore, transliteration usually conforms to the standard Hindi pronunciation, but in so me cases the wrestlers with whom I spoke affected a particular pronunciation of specific words, as, for example, bethak (deep knee bend) rather than baithak. In part this may be a function of the linguistic interface in eastern Uttar Prades h, and in part because wrestlers have developed a slight accent of their own whe n talking about the specifics of their art among themselves. If these terms are not in common usage, and it seems that even nonBanaras wrestlers have the same p ronunciation, I have conformed to the wrestlers predilection. ~~~~~

Preface This is a study of wrestling as a system of meaning, and it must be made clear at the outset that I have not undertaken to study the technical aspects o f the sport. Those who look for a detailed explication of moves, countermoves, a nd techniques will undoubtedly be disappointed. The reason for this is quite sim ple. The moves, countermoves, and techniques of Indian wrestling must be filmed or photographed to be appreciated and understood fully. This monograph is not an exercise in replication or description of this exact sort; it is a work of inte rpretationto adapt an old adage, 1001 words offered in place of what would otherw ise be a mere picture. I am indebted to a number of institutions and individuals for the support they have given to this project. Preliminary research funding w as afforded by a Humanities Graduate Research Grant from the University of Calif ornia at Berkeley for a study of the popular literature on Indian wrestling. Fun ding for a year of field work was provided by a Doctoral Dissertation Research G rant under the auspices of the Fulbright-Hays Foundation. The ample financial su pport given under this grant was much appreciated. I would also like to thank th e staff officers in Washington and Delhi for their efficient work. Without their help, getting the necessary visa and academic affiliation would have been impos sible. While I was in India the staff at Fulbright House were very helpful in many ways, which made the difficult task of research that much less arduous. In Bana ras I was granted affiliation with the Department of Physical Education at Banar as Hindu University under the direction of Dr. S. S. Sharma. I am grateful both to the university and to Dr. Sharma for their support. Upon completing the field research I was awarded a Mabelle McLeod Lewis Memorial Grant for a year of diss ertation writing. This support proved invaluable and fulfilling, as I was able t o write without distraction for an entire year a rare situation today. In India a number of people contributed to the success of this project. I cannot remember the names of every wrestler whose words and ideas have found their way into thi s text. To all of them goes my sincere gratitude for patience and long-suffering indulgence. A few wrestlers with whom I spoke extensively must be mentioned by name. In Banaras, they are: Lakshmi Kant Pande, Govardan Das Malhotra, Jatindar Kumar Pathak, Narayan Singh, Kaniya Lal Yadav, Amru Dada, Banarsi Pande, Indrama ni Misra, Pratap Singh, Jharkhande Rai, Krishna Kumar Singh, Kaniya, Ashok, Soha n, Manohar, Atma, Shyam, Govind, Anand, Subhash, Danesh, Ram ji, and Lal ji. I a m deeply indebted also to Sita Ram Yadav, a champion wrestler of his time; Nathu Lal Yadav, a genuine Pahalwaan; and Lallu Pahalwaan, a quintessential guru. I w ould also like to thank the owner, managers, and staff of Sandeep Hotel, where I lived for seven months. Their good humor was always appreciated. I recommend th eir services highly. If I have left out anyones name it is not by design or lack of appreciation but because so many were helpful.

In Dehra Dun I express my heartfelt thanks to Kanta Pahalwaan, who first introdu ced me to Indian wrestling. During my stay, however, Kanta was absent from Dehra Dun, and I worked closely with Yamin and his cadre of young wrestlers from Saha ranpur. A special word of thanks must go to Dr. Shanti Prakash Atreya, who is by popular acclaim the guru of Indian wrestling. I had hoped to work closely with him in Dehra Dun but was unable to for various reasons. (The life of a fieldwork er does not always accommodate itself to the obligations of a grihastha.) Instea d I have read his numerous articles on Indian wrestling and hope to have absorbe d in this way what he would rather have had me learn in his akhaaraa at Bandarju ddha. His influence on my work is considerable. In the Department of Anthropolog y at the University of California at Berkeley a number of people made valuable c ontributions to my research in particular, and to my academic career in general. My greatest debt is to my advisor and friend Gerald Berreman, whose support has been unstinting. Over the years his critical eye and astute judgement have broa dened my appreciation and deepened my understanding of anthropology. The spirit of his work has informed much of my own thinking. William Simmonss good-natured s upport and insightful comments have helped to keep me on the right track. Thomas Metcalfs extensive knowledge of India has provided a necessary and much apprecia ted perspective. Other people have looked over various portions of this manuscri pt as it went through a number of drafts. I am grateful to Burton Benedict for h is comments and to the members of the dissertation-writing seminar at the Univer sity of California, Berkeley, for a chance to exchange ideas. Philip Lutgendorf has provided encouragement and has pointed out more than one bhram. I am indebte d to Bruce Pray and Joseph Schaller for looking over the glossary. My thanks als o go to Peter Nabokov, who took an interest in my work and recommended the manus cript to the University of California Press. More than one anonymous reviewer ma de valuable suggestions for which I am very grateful. Although not directly invo lved in this project, I would also like to thank Elizabeth Traube, my M.A. advis or at Wesleyan University, for getting me to ask the right questions. Finally I am indebted to Nicole Constable, whose sharp eye for imprecision is but one mund ane feature of a wholly immeasurable and invaluable contribution to the larger p roject. ~~~~~

1. Search and Research Overview This monograph is a study of Indian wrestling as a way of life. The term Indian wrestling is translated directly from the Hindi phrase Bharatiya kushti. Kushti (generic wrestling) is regarded as having a uniq uely Indian form. In North India there are two other terms that are used interch angeably when referring to Indian wrestling. The most common of these is Pahalwa ani, which I have taken to signify two important conceptual domains within the l arger framework of wrestling as a way of life. On the one hand, Pahalwaani defin es a particular concept of self structured in terms of somatic principles; on th e other hand, it articulates the values and ethics of a distinct ideology. To st udy Pahalwaani, therefore, is to understand how wrestlers make sense of who they are through the medium of their bodies. The second term is mallayuddha, which m ay be literally translated as wrestling combat. The term mallayuddha is used very infrequently and is regarded by most wrestlers as an archaic designation. On acc ount of its classical derivation, it is used primarily by people educated in San skrit. The root word malla, translated simply as wrestler, is used in conjunction with two other common terms. Mallakala is translated as the art of wrestling, and mallavidya as the knowledge of wrestling. Both terms, which are used somewhat more frequently than mallayuddha, indicate that wrestling is regarded as a complex s ystem of meaning, as more than just a passive form of recreational leisure. Wres tling in modern India is a synthesis of two different traditions: the Persian fo rm of the art brought into South Asia by the Moguls, and an indigenous Hindu for m that dates back at least to the eleventh century A.D. Although technically the two types of wrestling are identical, the culture of Muslim wrestling is formal ly different from Hindu wrestling. In this monograph I touch on Muslim wrestling only obliquely. For the most part this study is about the identity, ideology an d way of life of the Hindu Pahalwaan. Wrestling takes place in akhaaraas (gymnas ia). Typically an akhaaraa is an ad hoc institution in terms of both membership and management. An akhaaraa may have as few as five or six members or as many as sixty or seventy who range in age from eight to sixty-five. Often wrestlers in an akhaaraa represent a spectrum of high and low caste groups. The members of an akhaaraa are affiliated to the institution through their allegiance to a guru. Every akhaaraa is managed by a guru and a cohort of his age mates, guru-bhais, w ho are known by the junior members as dadas. The physical structure of an akhaar aaminimally an earthen pit, an exercise floor, a well, and a temple or shrineis ma intained by public donation. Akhaaraas do not require a great deal of financial support. Occasionally a new pavilion must be built or a new rope, bucket, or wal l is required. Money is raised on demand by whomever takes responsibility, usual ly one of the senior members. Neighborhood residents and wealthy merchants are a sked to

pledge contributions, and construction or repair proceeds when enough money has been collected. Akhaaraas are often located on land that is owned by temple-mana gement committees or donated by a public benefactor or patron of wrestling. Once constructed, akhaaraas are typically regarded as public arenas, and conceptual ownershipif not legal deedis transferred to the resident guru. A wrestling guru is one who instructs his disciples on the fine art of wrestling. He prescribes eac h wrestlers individual regimen by delineating the number and sequence of exercise s, the types and number of moves to be practiced, the content and quantity of di et, and the time and amount of rest. A guru is also a source of strength and wis dom, and a wrestler must be willing and able to commit himself totally to his gu ru in order to gain access to this strength and wisdom. Although the majority of wrestlers tend to be in their early to mid-teens, the term Pahalwaan designates an identity that is by no means limited to the teenage wrestler. In fact, the t erm Pahalwaan includes men who were disciplined wrestlers in their youth and who , as married adults, continue to subscribe to the ideals, if not the strict regi men, of a wrestling way of life. These men are employed, support families, and a re integrated members of their communities in every sense. However, their whole identity derives from the complex discipline of wrestling exercise and values. A wrestling identity, then, is not restricted to the context of an akhaaraa; it i s an attitude toward life in general. Purpose: Why Wrestling? I am often asked w hy I study Indian wrestling, and the answer is not straightforward. When the ide a first came to me, as an undergraduate studying anthropology, I had conjured up an exotic image of extraordinary men doing strange things to and with their bod ies. In other words, I fell blindly in step with an orientalist tradition intent on seeing other lives as esoteric, unfamiliar and titillating. Although I hope I have now exorcised from this picture the most malevolent of the orientalist de mons, the fact remains that wrestlers view themselves as extraordinary men who d o extraordinary things to and with their bodies. They project a self-consciously exotic image and thereby distort the world by way of a novel translation of nor mal events. I was born and raised in India of missionary parents and educated in a Christian International School. The exotic was never far away, although not a lways where one might expect to find it. While no single eventexotic or otherwisec learly marks that moment of insight when the comfortable truth of the world begi ns to dissolve into interesting questions, one particular event, among many, wil l serve to illustrate a point that has provided me with an anthropological persp ective on wrestlers lives.

A traveling minstrel show, evangelicals from one of the midwestern states sponso red and funded by their mission to witness to the people of India, came to our s chool. Clad in blue polyester suits stitched and embroidered with white threadthe white thread sticks in my mind as particularly exoticclean-cut and well fed, thi s group, a family in Christ who called themselves The Potters Clay, took the stage in front of the assembled student body. What followed was a dazzling array of folk -rock music played on a mother-of-pearl embossed accordion, a couple of electric guitars, a trombone, and a trumpet. The music was punctuated by moments of pray er and testimony when the younger members of the troupe would explain how they h ad gone astraydrinking, driving fast cars, womanizing (a strange world indeed)but were ultimately saved and had been called on by the Holy Spirit to come to India and bear witness to the power of salvation. Two sisterstwins I thinkwere part of this troupe and had taken it upon themselves to have someone translate their mid western gospel-rock ballads into various Indian languages. How they did this I d o not know, for they moved from state to state on a whirlwind schedule; but they would memorize the sounds of words in Tamil, Telagu, Punjabi, Hindi, or Bengali and render these in full if somewhat halting voices at the appropriate regional gospel meeting. For some reason they were exceedingly pleased and proud of the fact that they had no idea what the words meant, or, indeed, what constituted a word as distinct from a syllable or phoneme. They were blissfully comfortable wi th the conviction that their spiritual message was transcendent: language was re duced to a mere technological tool. It is against this backdrop of exotic transl ation that I situate the question of why I have chosen to study anthropology in general and Indian wrestling in particular. In a manner suggested by Roland Bart hes (1972: 1525) I see the world of Indian wrestling as myth and the project of m ythological analysis as one of translation. The best translation, as Barthes obs erved, does not reduce experience to some level of universal truth. To translate , in the larger, anthropological sense, is constantly to question ideology with the yardstick of history; or, to paraphrase Barthes, not to let History masquera de as Nature (ibid: 11). I have chosen to study Indian wrestling with this in mi nd: to offer an anthropological translation of the wrestlers somaticity and there by, in an extended sense, to call the twin sisters exotic bluff. I have chosen to study Indian wrestling for more specific reasons as well. Although it is a popu lar sport, very little has been written about this rich cultural tradition embed ded within the larger Indian cultural scene either in India or in the West. For the most part, social scientists who conduct research in India have focused on w ell-documented and more or less clearly articulated social and cultural institut ions such as caste, economics, politics, agriculture, land tenure, marriage, kin ship, ritual, and religion, to name but a few. These institutions are in fact th e fabricated parts of a larger, seamless social reality. While necessary, the cl assification of institutionsthe breaking up of the whole into manageable intellec tual unitsentails some distortion. For example, in order to understand caste one mu st at least temporarily take it out of its holistic context and look at it on it s own terms or

in conjunction with some other similarly removed category such as kinship, marri age patterns, or economic interdependence. Reification is a pitfall of this kind of analysis, when one begins to think of each category as ontologically real ra ther than as simply heuristically useful or analytically expedient. It is the ta sk of any study to challenge the parameters of classificationto stretch the cultu rally accepted boundariesin order to get a more complete and accurate picture of the whole by constantly reflecting its component parts against one another in ne w ways. The literature on India is so vast that most topics have been analyzed n umerous times from countless perspectives. Caste is probably one of the most tho roughly studied institutions (Berreman 1966, 1967, 1972, 1973; Beteille 1969; Da vis 1983; Harper 1964; Hocart 1950;Kolenda 1963, 1978; Lynch 1969; Marriott 1960 ; Srinivas 1962, 1965, 1969; Wiser 1950). This is not to suggest that something new and interesting cannot be said about it. But because Indian institutions hav e been thoroughly studied in their own terms, it is necessary to ask what cultur al and social phenomena transcend these traditionally defined institutions. What aspects of social life do not fit so neatly or consistently onto the existing i ntellectual grid? How do these phenomena provide new insight into Indian civiliz ation? What parts of the whole have not yet been compared against one another? I n pursuing such inquiry and seeking an adequate translation, I have found it nec essary to situate old problems and themes in new contexts. (For recent examples of this see Carman and Marglin 1985; Daniel 1984; Gold 1988; Raheja 1988.) Wrest ling transcends the categories that anthropologists and others have traditionall y used to interpret Indian society and culture. It is a sport, but it is also an elaborate way of life involving general prescriptions of physical culture, diet , health, ethics, and morality. It is not caste-specific nor directly implicated in caste hierarchy. Although it is a way of life, it is not a livelihood; it is a chosen path that is not contiguous with other life paths as defined by the Hi ndu life cycle. As a sport wrestling provides entertainment, but this dimension is secondary. The ethic of training and psychophysical preparation is more impor tant than the wrestling bout itself. Wrestling is not restricted to any one clas s of people; it is neither rural nor urban. In general, it tends to defy simple classification. However, to say that wrestling is not primarily a caste phenomen on or that it is not completely subsumed within religious, economic, or politica l systems is not to say that it is irrelevant to these spheres of life; quite th e contrary. My argument is that wrestling is a unique and somewhat anomalous phe nomenon in Indian society. As such it can shed light on familiar institutions fr om a dramatically new perspective. I chose to study wrestling in the hope that t he disparity between lived experience and my interpretation of that experience c ould be minimized. This seemed likely because wrestling is eminently public and self-conscious. A man chooses to become a wrestler and must reflect on the impli cations of his decision. He must struggle with a set of ideals and values and in terpret their ramifications. Wrestlers reflect on what they do and why they do i t in an overtly self-conscious way. They do not simply take it for granted. This fact allowed me to build my interpretation on an already well-defined pattern o f self-awareness, inquiry,

personal critique, and objective analysis, thus reducing the distance between th eir voices and mine. I am interested in wrestling as public performance and as a stage for self-presentation because it is on such public stages that interpreta tions, rationalizations, and meanings are expressed and modified (Brandes 1985; Bruner 1984; Geertz 1973; Goffman 1959). All social life is public; its cultural meaning is open to continual definition and redefinition, interpretation and re interpretation. Wrestling, like ritual, dance, and musical performance, is a dra matically public text (Ricoeur 1971). It is unique, however, in that there are r elatively few absolute semantic rules which define action within the textual fra mework. To use Barthess terms, one might say that wrestling is a myth that, becau se of its interstitial reality, lacks a consistent grammer of its own. As such, wrestling only contingently reaffirms pervasive cultural themes such as rank and status; more significantly, it opens up the stage for a protean, maverick revis ion of these themes. The Fieldwork I was born in North India and lived there for twenty years. I speak and read Hindi. While in high school I became well acquai nted with some wrestlers and began to wrestle in local tournaments. Although I w as not a successful wrestler, I became interested in the rich culture associated with wrestling as a system of physical culture and health. In 1977 I affiliated with a wrestling gymnasium under the guruship of Dr. Shanti Prakash Atreya and was introduced to Indian wrestling as not only a sport but also a way of life, a complex system of physical fitness, exercise techniques, dietary prescriptions, personal character traits, devotion, discipline, and a host of ethical values. As a result of this experience I decided to return to India in 1987 and conduct a year of field research on the culture of Indian wrestling. My exposure to wres tling made it possible to affiliate with and quickly assimilate into a new akhaa raa and to build rapport with a number of wrestlers. I lived for seven months, f rom January to July 1987, in Banaras, Uttar Pradesh, where there are over 150 ac tive wrestling gymnasia in the city and twenty or thirty in the surrounding vill ages. Because wrestling is not defined by a residential community and gymnasia a re not usually residential institutions, I was not able to live with the wrestle rs I studied. I was closely affiliated with one gymnasium, Akhaaraa Ram Singh, b ut I did not restrict my research to this group because I did not want to become so involved with the activities of one community as to be precluded from others . Pressure is brought to bear on all members to come to their akhaaraa regularly . I therefore rented a room in a local hotel. This proved very satisfactory on a number of counts. The hotel was centrally located five minutes from Akhaaraa Ra m Singh and within thirty minutes of most akhaaraas in the city. By living in th e hotel I was able to maintain a necessary distance between myself and the life of the gymnasium. I was thus able to type notes and generally collect my thought s in an isolated environment. The hotel provided

food, security, mail and message service, laundry, and a regular supply of water and electricity. Rather than having to attend to these mundane concerns, I was able to spend all of my time concentrating on the research project. Moreover, I was able to entertain informants/guests on short notice and in comfort. The term hotel needs to be qualified, for it may conjure up inappropriate images of luxury and leisure. I stayed at the Sandeep Hotel in Chaitganj, an Indian Style hotel as classified by the department of tourism, used primarily by traveling businessme n and families on pilgrimage. It was inexpensive and simply appointed to a degre e unfamiliar in the West. The employees of the hotel were familiar with the wres tling scene so that wrestlers who came by to visit were not at all intimidated b y the surroundings. Banaras is not a typical Indian city (cf. Eck 1982; Freitag 1989; Lutgendorf 1991). It is one of the preeminent pilgrimage centers in India. Because of its pervasive and often intense religious atmosphere it is reputed t o have a character all its own. Many people with whom I spokewrestlers and non-wr estlers, barbers, shopkeepers, young soldiers, policemen, students, music teache rs, and otherswould ask with a twinkle in their eye and a sense of pride and poss essive secretiveness whether I had yet taken in the pleasure of Banaras. What they meant was, had I bathed in the Ganga River at dawn and then gone to one of the many temples for darshan (spiritual viewing); rowed across the Ganga to the sandy south shore and spent the day washing clothes, bathing, and fixing bhang (hashis h); been to the Bari Gaivi temple and drunk the pure well water that improves di gestion? Had I been to Sankat Mochan temple on a Saturday night and offered swee ts prepared in pure ghi (clarified butter) to Lord Hanuman; been to Ramnagar acr oss the river to witness an enactment of Tulasi Dass Ramacaritamanasa? Had I been in Banaras for Holi? Had I enjoyed the unique pan (a betel leaf, spice, and lim e-paste preparation) for which Banaras is famous (cf. Kumar 1986, 1988 for an ex cellent discussion of leisure and pleasure in Banaras)? Banaras is known for man y things and is unique in many ways. Wrestling in Banaras, however, is the same as wrestling in Delhi, Dehra Dun, Allahabad, and any other place in North India. Wrestling holds a special place in the Banarsi ethos (cf. Kumar 1988), but it i s not defined in any unique way there. In this book I will describe what wrestli ng means in general in North India, using Banaras as an example, rather than wha t it means distinctively to people in Banaras, as Kumar has done. After seven mo nths in Banaras I shifted the research focus from the akhaaraa to the competitio ns. For five months, from August to December 1987, I lived in Delhi and Mussoori e. Though akhaaraa training goes on year round, the competitive season begins in July with the coming of the monsoon rains and continues through the temperate s eason until the Holi festival at the end of March, when the heat begins to inten sify. I attended wrestling bouts in Delhi, Dehra Dun, Ramnagar, Vikasnagar, Saha ranpur, Roorkee, Mangalore, and other small towns and villages to get a broader picture of this dimension of

wrestling, and to insure that my interpretation was not overly specific to the B anaras experience. Methods and Routine One problem I encountered in the field wa s how to demarcate the topical boundaries of my study. I was not sure what const ituted a complete picture of wrestling from an anthropological point of view. I had thought that I would join an akhaaraa and that the boundaries of what was an d what was not wrestling would be self-evident. This was not the case. I found t hat there were Hindu akhaaraas, Muslim akhaaraas, akhaaraas where only English exe rcise was done, akhaaraas for Hindi exercise, power lifting akhaaraas, akhaaraas for relaxation where little or no exercise was done, akhaaraas with focused religio us orientations and peripheral wrestling and exercise, akhaaraas for lifting nal s (stone weights), and akhaaraas exclusively for swinging joris (wooden clubs) a nd gadas (maces). Some of these distinctions are sharp and exclusive, as in the case of gymnasia where members practice western-style bodybuilding. Other distin ctions are more fluid, as in the case of akhaaraas which function primarily as he alth spas but also cater to and provide facilities for wrestlers and competitive jori swingers. I focused my study on Hindu akhaaraas that emphasized wrestling. However, I found it useful to visit akhaaraas of all types. What goes on in an a khaaraa where bodybuilding is the focus, for instance, sheds light on general co ncepts of the body in all akhaaraas. Similarly, Muslim wrestlers provide a criti cal appraisal of Hindu akhaaraas, and a jori swinger or weightlifter can speak t o the general aesthetic, moral, and ethical principles of gymnasium life. Research Techniques One morning, soon after arriving in Banaras, I got up at 5:0 0 and walked over to an akhaaraa I had located the day before. It was set back f rom the road under banyan and nim trees and demarcated by a low wall. Across the road was a park and a low marshy pond. In the center of the akhaaraa stood a la rge cement structure some twenty feet tall with a flat roof supported by thin po sts decorated with blue line paintings of wrestlers exercising and posturing. Wi thin this structure was the wrestling pit: a raised rectangular platform of soft , fine earth brought in yearly from village fields and raked even and flat. Arou nd the sides of the pit were areas of hard-packed earth. To one side was a well and cement trough for bathing. Opposite this stood a small temple decorated with paintings of Hanuman, Ram, and Sita, inside of which stood the bright vermilion , cloth-bedecked, flower-garlanded form of Hanuman, the patron deity of every ak haaraa. Beside the temple were a number of small shrines with smaller icons of H anuman and Shiva. Leaning up against the largest of the nim trees was a broken t riptych of Hanuman figures, a Shiva lingam, and countless small oil lamps. Behin d the pit was a shedlike veranda attached to the gurus house where wrestlers chan ged, exercised, and massaged one another.

As I walked by early in the morning I could see from some distance away that the re were about twenty young men and boys standing around the pit. On closer exami nation I could see pairs of wrestlers practicing their moves in the pit. One cli mbed up a rope attached to the largest nim tree while others performed dands (ja ckknifing push-ups) and bethaks (deep knee bends), lifted weights, and swung dum bbells and wooden clubs. Not having met these wrestlers previously, or been intr oduced to the akhaaraa, my plan was simply to observe the morning activities and gradually familiarize myself with the routine. However, as I walked by, all of the wrestlers in the akhaaraa turned on me as one, slapping their thighs and bea ting their chests in the aggressive challenging fashion that precedes a competit ive bout. Feeling that a statement was in order, I said something to the effect that I was interested in wrestling. Immediately a number of hands were proffered in challenge. At this point I could have backed down and said I just wanted to watch, but the spirit of the moment seemed right and I accepted the challenge of one of the senior members. I did not have a langot (g-string), but an extra one was located and I tied it on and entered the pit. For ten minutes or so I did t he best I could, which is to say not very well at all; but in the end I was, if bruised, muddy, and out of breath, at least in the door, introduced in a dramatic way to twenty members of an akhaaraa and on my way to understanding what wrestli ng was all about. My research strategy was to become a regular member of a gymna sium and study its members and daily routine in detail through regular participa nt observation. Ram Singh Akhaaraa, the first akhaaraa I visited, turned out to be the gymnasium with which I became affiliated. Every other morning from 5:00 o r 5:30 until 9:00 I practiced and exercised with the members of the akhaaraa. Mo st akhaaraas are active at a very early hour so that after practice members can go to work or school. On the mornings that I did not go to Akhaaraa Ram Singh I would go to one of the other gymnasia in the city. Although I went to numerous a khaaraas, I returned often to Akhaaraa Bara Ganesh near the loha (metal/iron) ba zaar, Gaya Seth on the Grand Trunk road near Gol Gaddha, Surya Akhaaraa near Cha uk Bazaar, Sant Ram Akhaaraa above Manikarnika Ghat, and Akhaaraa Karanghanta ne ar Maidagin. In the afternoons I would try to locate other akhaaraas and, if pos sible, observe their evening exercise routine. Once I had established rapport wi th wrestlers at several akhaaraas I began to conduct scheduled interviews on a r ange of topics. These interviews came to constitute a fair percentage of the mat erial I gathered. I conducted thirty-five formal interviews, each between an hou r and an hour and a half long. These interviews were taped and then transcribed. I did not have a key informant but rather worked with seven primary informants and ten or eleven secondary informants. I surveyed thirty-five akhaaraas in orde r to discern membership, management techniques, ownership, religious foci, polit ical affiliations, and a host of other basic census data. In informal, untaped i nterviews I collected short life sketches of 110 wrestlers in order to determine such factors as educational background, caste, economic-class status, residence , and family wrestling history. Although important information was collected in this way, by far the most valuable information came from attending morning pract ice sessions, swimming in the river and

visiting temples with members of the akhaaraa, attending weddings and parties, g oing to wrestling bouts, and listening to gossip while lying in the cool akhaara a earth after an afternoon workout. Popular Literature One reason I selected wre stling as a topic of study is that it is a self-conscious public activity that p eople choose to do. They articulate their reasons for wrestling and reflect on w hat wrestling as a chosen life path means to them in particular and to all wrest lers in general. Because of this there is a considerable popular literature on w restling, often reflexive and analytical. I have termed this literature popular be cause it is stylistically neither journalistic nor scholarly. It is popular in t he dual sense of being interesting and concerned with the public interest. Most journal articles and pamphlets are not simply descriptive but advocate a particu lar point of view directed at a specific audience. I also refer to this literatu re as popular because it is largely published by small local publishing houses f or a restricted audience. In this regard it is distinguished from academic texts , which enjoy a much larger circulation and currency and appear, among other pla ces, on the accessions list of the Library of Congress and the shelves of univer sities both in India and in the West. The popular literature on Indian wrestling is not easy to find unless you know where to look or are directed there by thos e who know: the back galis of Chauri Bazaar in Old Delhi, the Rangmahal area of Indor, small printing establishments in Banaras, and other equally obscure place s that have yet to be discovered. While I am most familiar with the Hindilanguag e publications of this genre (Ali 1984; Anonymous n.d.; Changani 1958; R. Gupta n.d.; M. Lal n.d.; G. Y. Manik 1964; K. Manik 1939; Mathur 1966; Patodi 1982; Sa rma 1934; A. K. Singh 1983; H. Singh 1981, 1984a, 1984b; Sivnathrayji 1955), it should be noted that there are also a number of other regional-language publicat ions by Soman (1963, 1974) and Suryavamshi (1966) in Marathi, and Basu (1934) an d Bhadudi (1964) in Bengali. The most significant literature of this type is pub lished by the Bharatiya Kushti Prakashan (The Indian Wrestling Publishing House) under the editorship of Ratan Patodi. The publishing house was established in 1 968 when the editor was forced to choose between his job as a journalist in Indo r and his avocation of writing and publishing material on Indian wrestling. Sinc e 1968 some forty-five editions of the quarterly journal Bharatiya Kushti (India n Wrestling) have been published. This journal is a source of invaluable informa tion. Consider some of the articles: Physical Education in Rural Areas by Atreya ( 1971); At What Age to Begin Wrestling by K. P. Singh (1975); How to Stay Healthy Du ring the Rainy Season by N. Pathak (1980); Poverty and Health by Atreya (1986a); Eat Greens, Stay Healthy by M. R. Gupta (1973); and A Vegetarian Diet to Increase You r Weight by O. P. Kumawath (1987). In addition to numerous articles on diet, heal th care, exercise techniques, celibacy, morality, and religion, there are over a hundred articles

that outline the life histories of as many famous wrestlers. There are also over a hundred accounts of wrestling tournaments in India. In short, Bharatiya Kusht i is a remarkable source of information. One of the most significant features of this journal is that it provides a cross section of views on various topics by authorities on the subject of Indian wrestling. Through a reading of the article s by Atreya, K. P. Singh, Pathak, Malhotra, Patodi, Guru Hanuman, and others, I am able to compare their views with those of the wrestlers I talked with and int erviewed. I have treated popular texts on wrestling in the same way that I have treated interviews and observations. Although the voices which speak from the wr itten texts are voices of authority, to the extent that they represent wrestling to a reading public, I have read these texts as simply other voices speaking in a common public arena. Written texts may speak more loudly and with clearer art iculation, but they do not define some objective truth; they merely add authorit y to the discourse. The existence of a self-reflexive, indigenous commentary on cultural life raises a number of interesting and problematic questions concernin g the role of the anthropologist as foreign observer. For, in effectto overstate the point slightlythe anthropologist is rendered impotent and somewhat redundant when the wrestlers write their own ethnography. Or, alternatively, would I class ify myself as but another wrestler writing in a somewhat different context, to a different audience, in a different language, but with no more or less legitimac y than any other wrestler? Certainly I have more at stake as an academic scholar but less invested as a wrestler. In any case, what is somewhat blurred here is the relationship between observer and observed and this, as Clifford (1983) and Clifford and Marcus (1986) among others (Fabian 1983; Rabinow 1977; Tyler 1986) have pointed out, raises the problematic question of ethnographic authority. Tra ditional anthropological exegesis is based on both eyewitness accounts and hears ay, an epistemology that almost by definition makes a sharp dichotomy between th e written word and the heard word or seen event. This is simply no longer tenabl e, given the fact that anthropologists can no longer study isolated, illiterate groups. In an article published in Bharatiya Kushti entitled Brahmacharya, Atreya quotes Goethe and the Swedish theologian Swedenborg as well as the Bhagavad Gita and other classical Indian texts (1973b: 24). An early text entitled Jujitsu an d Japanese Wrestling by a Banaras resident named Kalidas Manik (1932) compares w restling in India with wrestling in Japan. Manik admonishes young Indian wrestle rs to learn Japanese moves. Banarsi Pande, a well-known wrestler in the Banaras area, was trained as an international referee at the National Institute of Sport in Patiala. He is conversant on a range of topics that includes the Swedish gym nasium movement of the early twentieth century. When I asked him to talk about t he history of Indian wrestling he spoke of classical Greece and ancient Rome and referred to notes he had taken on hand-to-hand combat described in the Mahabhar ata and Ramayana epics. Indrasan Rai, who comes from a family of famous wrestler s, has written a doctoral dissertation for the department of Ancient Indian Hist ory, Culture and Archeology, Banaras Hindu University, on the art of wrestling i n ancient India (1984).

About one-sixth of the references cited in his dissertation are of works in Engl ish about western philosophy and physical education. I was introduced to Indrasa n Rai by an illiterate wrestler who directed me to textual sourcesnewspaper clipp ings and commemorative souvenir volumeswhen I asked him to recount his life story . As Marcus and Fischer have rightly pointed out, it is incumbent on anthropolog ists to make sense of this polyphony of voices and texts (1986: 37). The goal of such an endeavor would be to produce what Clifford refers to as dialogic texts which seek to evoke meaning in an ongoing process of creative praxis (1983). The anthropologists voice is introduced into the arena not as any sort of final auth ority on represented truth but as yet another redactor of partial knowledge. A n umber of anthropologists have experimented with various techniques to try to reo rient the anthropologists voice in the larger discourse of ethnographic work (cf. Crapanzano 1980; Narayan 1989; M. Rosaldo 1980). The world of Indian wrestling affords a unique opportunity to examine the theoretical implications for anthrop ology of textual intersubjectivity. If Goethe and Swedenborg can be quoted as so urces on Indian wrestling, and if wrestlers write about themselves in objective, selfreflexive intellectual terms, then where do we draw the line between text, context, and author? And who draws it? Historical Texts and the Problem of Histo ry It is now accepted in anthropology that cultural analysis must somehow be con texualized within a historical framework (Cohn 1987; Fabian 1983; R. Rosaldo 198 0; Sahlins 1981, 1986). This is not to say that ethnography must be predicated u pon historical reconstruction. History must be integrated into a holistic unders tanding of institutions and groups. It is not enough to make reference to the pa st without a critical evaluation of how the history of an event is as much a ref lection of current concerns as it is an objective, impartial description. Conver sely, a reevaluation of history can shed significant light on the way in which e thnography is interpreted and analyzed. In this study a lack of historical infor mation prevents me from using history in this way. One of the greatest frustrati ons in dealing with wrestling is the paucity of historical material. There are a number of cultural histories of various epochs that mention wrestling in passin g but say little beyond an indication that it was a popular pastime of kings and princes (Chopra 1963; Dayal 1981: 40; Suryavanshi 1962: 63, 64). A brief accoun t is given in The Encyclopedia of Sport(Pollok 1911: 353), and a short synopsis appears in Man(Hornblower 1928: 65) where reference is made to an earlier accoun t in the Times of March 2, 1928. There are brief accounts of wrestling during th e Mogul period in the Babur Nama(Beveridge 1921: 656, 660, 683), the Akbar-Nama( Blochmann 1904: [I]456487, [III] 482) and the Ain-i-Akbari(Blochmann 18731948: [I] 263). Wrestling is described in Dharmamangala, a Bengali poem by Chanaram Chakr avarty (1900: 51). Wrestling, along with other sports, is described by Tridib Na th Roy in Indoor and Outdoor Games in Ancient India (1939), and by Dr. V. Raghavan in Festivals, Sports and Pastimes of

India(1979). Short accounts of wrestling during the epic ages are given by S. Bh attacharya in Mahabharata Kalin Samaj(Society in the Mahabharata Era; 1966), and S. K. N. Vyas in Ramayana Kalin Samaj(Society in the Ramayana Era; 1958). L. Si ngh discusses wrestling as a martial art in Ramayankalin mein Yuddhakala(Martial Arts in the Ramayana Era; 1982 1983). M. Rai situates wrestling in a larger cont ext of royal entertainment in his Prachin Bharatiya Manoranjan(Entertainment in Ancient India; 1956). The problem with all of these secondary sources on wrestli ng is that they are based on the same limited corpus of primary texts. There is much repetition but little elaboration. In his doctoral dissertation entitled Pr achin Bharat mein Mallavidya(Wrestling Knowledge in Ancient India), Indrasan Rai (1984) has synthesized historical references to wrestling into a comprehensive analytical survey. Rai has systematically gone through Hindu, Buddhist, and Jain texts and painstakingly compiled a historical picture of wrestling. However, be cause most texts deal with wrestling only marginally, the historical picture of wrestling is partial and opaque. Moreover, Rais study treats history in a scheme of now and then, with then representing a vast, unchanging, primordial past. Through n o fault of his own, Rais work provides a thin description of wrestling in this ge neralized past, without depth or sense of change because there is simply not eno ugh material to suggest any process of development. Balbir Singhs study of wrestl ing history, Bharat de Pahalwaan: 16351935(Wrestlers of India: 16351935; 1964) is a more focused and therefore comprehensive work. Written in Punjabi, it is a cat alogue of famous wrestlers and their accomplishments, which, though extremely us eful in its own right, simply extends the boundary of the present into the past and does not provide a historical understanding of what constituted a wrestling way of life in, for instance, the eighteenth century. In any case there is no hi storical connection among accounts of wrestling in the Ramayana (thirteenth-cent ury Gujarat), Mahabharata (twelfth-century South India), and Jataka Tales (eight eenth-century Delhi). The texts that deal with these periods do not provide us w ith a comprehensive history of wrestling, but with static, dated accounts. Two o f these deserve special mention: the Malla Purana and the Manasollasa. The Malla Purana, edited by B. J. Sandesara and R. N. Mehta (1964), is a caste purana dat ing most likely to the thirteenth century A.D.(ibid: 6). The purana is a dissert ation on, and description of, the Jyesthimallasa caste of professional wrestlersin m edieval Gujarat. It categorizes and classifies types of wrestlers, defines neces sary physical characteristics, and describes types of exercise and techniques of wrestling as well as the preparation of the wrestling pit. The text of the Mall a Purana is Sanskrit, but the editors have provided an English synopsis in their extensive introduction. Veena Das has studied the Malla Purana from a sociologi cal perspective, focusing her inquiry on why priests, who would not usually adop t a martial art, became professional wrestlers (1968, 1970). A second text of pa rticular significance is the Manasollasa of the twelfth-century Deccan king Some svara (Srigondekar 1959). This is a general treatise on royal fine arts and leis ure

and contains a detailed description of the art of wrestling. Rai (1984) has refe rred to this text as the wrestlers Gita since it is both a practical and philosophi cal account of wrestling as a science, an art, and a way of life. However, aside from Rai, Atreya, and a few other academic wrestlers, not many contemporary wrest lers know of this text. Although more detailed than other texts, the Manasollasa only gives the names of moves and exercises but does not provide descriptions. It is worth noting that while wrestling is regarded as a martial art, it is rare ly mentioned in accounts of epic or medieval military history (Chakravarti 1972; Hopkins 1972; B. K. Majumdar 1960; Oppert 1967; G. Pant 1970; J. N. Sarkar 1984 ; Wilson 1979; cf. also Deopujari 1973 and Irvine 1962 for accounts of Maratha a nd Mogul warfare respectively). When it is mentioned it is regarded as much less important than swordsmanship, archery, equestrian skill, and the other high arts of military combat. One reason for this may be that wrestling, no matter how wel l developed and refined as a fighting skill, remained a basic form of hand-to-ha nd combat and did not enjoy the glory and prestige of the more technologically s ophisticated arts of war. Another reason may be that wrestling was regarded more as a dueling art than as a mode of field combat. Many of the epic accounts desc ribe wrestling as taking place in an arena rather than on the battlefield, and i n this respect wrestling may be regarded as the diametrical opposite of war. Con sequently, one reason why wrestling may not appear in many accounts of military history is that its ambiguous status as art/sport/combat/way of life may have ma de it difficult to classify. Given the paucity of historical accounts about wres tling and the generally opaque and thin description of the sport when it is ment ioned, I do not believe that an adequate history of wrestling can be written now , if what we mean by such a history is the systematic developmental analysis of an institution or point of viewwhat Foucault calls genealogy rather than the objec tive quest for origins or the abstract construction of an uncritical chronology. Foucault has clearly pointed out the pitfalls of venturing into the arena of hi story with preconceived notions of what to look for and where to find it (1984a: 76 100). He suggests, instead, that a meticulous genealogical method must be app lied to create a reformed effective history that deprives the self of the reassurin g stability of life and nature, and . . . will not permit itself to be transport ed by a voiceless obstinacy toward a millennial ending. It will . . . relentless ly disrupt its pretended continuity (ibid: 88). The scattered fragments of inform ation about wrestling are interesting in their own right but do not fit together in a complete picture. For this reason, I have incorporated dated texts into th is book not as genealogy or history but as voices from another time speaking on various pervasive themes. To do so is unfortunate and methodologically tenuous, but unavoidable owing to the paucity of sources. A proper genealogy of the wrest lers body must await further study. The same situation applies on a much more abb reviated time scale. I was told in a number of interviews that wrestling was ver y popular during the nationalist movement (midnineteenth century until 1947) whe n the ideology of nationalism was apparently closely

allied with a wrestling way of life. There are tantalizing hints at how this coa lescence began and developed. For instance, Gama, the great Indian wrestler of t he early twentieth century, went to London in 1920 under the sponsorship of a we althy Bengali merchant. He soundly defeated all of the British champions at a ti me when Indian nationalism was reaching its full strength. He returned to India a national hero (Alter: manuscript). Madan Mohan Malaviya, Bal Gangadhar Tilak, and Moti Lal Nehru all were strong advocates of physical education and akhaaraa culture as a necessary component of building a free India (Karandikar 1957: 48). D. C. Mujumdars Encyclopedia of Indian Physical Culture(1950), and the earlier, m ore comprehensive, Marathi text in ten volumes on which that work is based, impl icitly advocate a nationalist ideology (1950: xxiv). The references to wrestling as an ideal of physical culture during the independence movement are scant and oblique. We know, for instance, that Mahatma Gandhi said that in the search for w isdom, physical education ought to have a status equal to that of learning (Patod i 1973a: 33), but we are not told how or why. Similarly Tilak is reputed to have said, I call on students and youth to be devoted to strength and celibacy. Witho ut wisdom and strength we cannot foster and protect our liberty. The freedom of the nation is dependent on the courageous (Patodi 1973a: 62). It is clear that In dian nationalists were advocates of a wrestling way of life, but there is not ye t enough evidence to write an effective history of their views. John Rosselli ha s authored a brief account of the role of physical culture in the formation of a nationalist ideology in nineteenth-century Bengal (1980). To fill out the pictu re, similar and more comprehensive studies are needed for other parts of India. A history of Indian wrestling can and likely will be written. However, in doing so it would be wrong to look for the roots of a nationalist ideology in the disc iplinary practices of thirteenth- or eighteenth-century wrestling. One must begi n with the body and proceed not to a rediscovery of ourselves (Foucault 1984a :88) but to an exegesis of the mechanics and mythology of domination. The Wrestlers B ody: Identity, Ideology, and Meaning As a sport, wrestling evokes images of vari ous kinds. The most pervasive and powerful of these images in the United States and other Western countries (cf. Barthes 1972: 1526; Craven and Mosley 1972; Mort on 1985) is professional wrestling. According to Barthes, this genre of wrestlin g is a great spectacle of Suffering, Defeat, and Justice (1972: 19). Although mora lity is a central feature of Indian wrestling, it is not professional wrestling in Barthess sense. It is not a spectacle. Wrestling bouts are dramatic, but they are not selfconscious performances. The contests are not rigged, nor do the contes tants adopt burlesque roles as cult figures. Unlike the Western professional wre stler who epitomizes a particular moral virtue, the Indian wrestler embodies a w hole ideology. As such he is an ideal figure rather than a simple caricature, a culture hero and not a scaramouche.

Although a complete picture of Indian wrestling will emerge in this book, it is necessary to provide a basic frame of referencehowever crypticin order to give a p oint of comparative orientation. The rules of Indian wrestling are very close to the rules of Olympic freestyle wrestling. As a sport, wrestling is a leisure ac tivity. It is entertaining for both wrestlers and spectators alike; it is a medi um for relaxation and competition. This is not to say, however, that wrestling i s somehow marginal to the core factors of real lifeproduction, exchange, domestic l ife, politics, and religion. Leisure and entertainment are no less real on accou nt of their non-utility than is production real on account of its fundamental use value. Because sport is fun does not in any way mean that it is insignificant. A s a cultural system, sport is meaningful to the same extent as systems of produc tion and exchange. That sport is seen, in contrast to drama, dance, business, an d education, as nothing more than fun is an unfortunate fact of cultural chauvinis m. One aspect of this study is to show how one sport, Indian wrestling, is an in tegral and important part of everyday life. A number of peoplebusinessmen, colleg e professors, and peasant farmersregarded it as the most important medium through which to think about themselves and to make sense of their world. Wrestling is more than a sport, it is a vocation: a way of life. One chooses to become a wres tler. My focus is not on moves and countermoves, holds, takedowns, or the other skills a wrestler must master. I am interested in the ideals and values associat ed with wrestling as a more or less bounded system of meaning. Although much of what wrestlers do is to practice techniques and moves, they regard this aspect o f their art as specialized and somewhat esoteric. In contrast to the unproblemat ic issue of skill and technique, the wrestler is eminently concerned with such c omplex questions as the relationship between moral and physical strength, abstin ence and celibacy. As such, wrestlers are concerned with wrestling as a way of l ife that defines the boundaries of their everyday actions. For a wrestler, wrest ling and all it entails is an ideology, a partial and incomplete but nevertheles s holistic ordering of the world. At the locus of this ideology is the identity of the wrestlerwhat it means, among other things, to be strong, skillful, celibat e, devoted, dutiful, honest, and humble. In order to explain this it is necessar y to work through the implications of what is meant by system of meaning, identity, and ideology. It is by now a commonplace in anthropology, following Geertz, to rec ognize that meaning is the central problematic in understanding culture. The pro ject of an interpretive approach is not to unlock hidden objective truths, but t o engage in an ongoing dialogue from which emerges the textured fabric of cultur al meaning. The focus is not on deep structures or fundamental principles but on cultural texts: experience as lived and expressed in everyday life. Meaning can not be reduced to first principles or located objectively in symbolic forms, soc ial organization or elementary structures. As Bourdieu writes, [t]he mind is a me taphor of the world of objects which is itself but an endless circle of mutually reflecting

metaphors (1977: 91). Bourdieu would be quick to add, however, that on this level of pure pastiche there is very little significance to the meaning of metaphor. To get at the significance of cultural production and reproduction one must cons ider both identity and ideology. Because meaning is a derivative of interpretati on and not intrinsic to symbolic forms, the role of the interpreter becomes very significant. The place of the actor in social discourse is important for unders tanding how persons manipulate and produce meaning. Through interaction with oth ers, people construct their own biographies. In turn, these biographies become t he basis for further interaction. One aspect of culture is the collective memory of biographies emerging from and creating a shared history. It must be remember ed, however, that one persons experience of the world through intersubjective int erpretation is necessarily partial and incomplete. The self is fragmentary, and people may act in terms of a particular matrix of these fragmentsas they may perf orm a rolebut a characteristic feature of the self is that it is only partially r ealized. As Simmel has noted, self-knowledge is inherently imperfect (Natanson 1 973: xl). What this suggests, however, is not a pejorative condition, but rather a possibility for persons to borrow from other contexts and other partial and i mperfect formulations in order to redefine themselves (cf. Rabinow 1983). In thi s context the self is not a partial reflection of an a priori social reality but instead the locus of intersubjective reflexivity (cf. Babcock 1980; Bruner 1984 ; Fernandez 1980). The creative process of inventing and interpreting meaning do es not take place in a vacuum. People spin the webs of their own significance, b ut they are constrained in the range, direction, and extent of their own action. That people tend to define themselves in terms of common values is an expressio n of shared cultural tradition. It is also, however, an expression of ideologica l constraint and domination. By definition any cultural tradition is exclusivehol istic in terms of itself but not universaland defines appropriate and inappropria te domains of action. In this regard any culture is necessarily partial, and whe n juxtaposed to another culture it is at least partially subversive. What is con sidered to be real and meaningful in one context may in a larger contextand there fore more political arenabe peddled as universal truth. I follow Habermas (1972) in his treatment of ideology as distorted communication and extend this to include the whole range of culture. An ideology is a powerful cultural system for it is regarded as an immutable paradigm for interpreting meaning and guiding action ( Geertz 1973: 220; cf. Ricoeur 1986). The value of a theory of ideology, followin g Giddens, is that it provides a critique of domination (1979: 187). If one spea ks, as Giddens suggests, in terms of the ideological rather than in terms of insti tutionalized ideologies as such, then the concept denotes some features of what Bourdieu calls habitus, the source of these series of moves which are objectively organized as strategies without being the product of a genuine strategic intent ionwhich would presuppose at least that they are perceived as one strategy among other possible strategies (1977: 73). What makes habitus ideological is not only it s strategic quality but the fact that it operates in a covert manner. Those who ar e engaged

in the practice of habitusthe replication and reproduction of various forms of do minationare not fully aware of all of the ramifications of their actions (ibid: 7 9). I use ideology to mean what Raymond Williams, following Gramsci, terms the h egemonic. Hegemony is not a formal structure of consciousness and control; rathe r, it refers to relations of subordination and domination embedded in the commonse nse world of everyday life (1977: 110). Domination of this sort can be reflected with considerable power in seemingly innocuous areas: a work of art, seating ar rangements, smoking etiquette, dietary patterns, body aesthetics. Rather than ad opt Williamss terminology, I will use the term ideology to denote the everyday re lations of subordination and domination embedded in culture (cf. Barnett 1977; B arnett and Silverman 1979). Although ideologies present themselves as totalizing and immutable, they cannot explain everything. Moreover, alternative ideologies provide different possible interpretations of a single phenomenon. Barnett has provided a detailed and flexible model for understanding how persons act in term s of their ideological stance (1977). The important point in his formulation is that while persons act in terms of one ideology they have a partial understandin g of how other ideologies work. They have at least a nascent idea that something can be understood from another perspective (ibid: 276). My argument, following the spirit if not the letter of Barnetts model, is that people can change their i deological stance given persuasive counterinterpretations of experience. In orde r to make sense of a situation a person may interpret the significance of partic ular symbols in a novel way. What is crucial, however, is that the new interpret ation is not pure invention but is rather the product of symbolic domination. Th e forms of ideological protest and counterinterpretation are encoded in the domi nant symbols themselves. Giddens has focused much of his work on this point. He argues that action emanates from structure and that the reflexive monitoring of a ction both draws upon and reconstitutes the institutional organization of societ y (1979: 255). Action does not follow a tangent of its own making; its course is set by pervasive structural themes (ibid: 5; cf. also Barnett and Silverman 1979 : 37). Ideological form, according to Barnett and Silverman, is not structured b y static categories but rather by eruptions of conflict, by disjunction rather t han consensus. Domination defines the parameters of protest and interpretation. Or, as Raymond Williams puts it, the dominant culture, so to say, at once produce s and limits its own forms of counter-culture (1977: 114). To apply this argument to the Indian case, one may say that an effective counterinterpretation of cast e hierarchy is necessarily couched in terms of the pervasive and dominant symbol s of purity and pollution. Barnett has shown that dramatic ideological change ta kes place through the reinterpretation of blood symbolism within the context of caste identity (1977: 283). As a referent for common group identity, blood can m ean either holistic interdependence and membership in a caste group, or it can c ome to refer to substance and evoke notions of individuality, class, and ethnici ty (ibid: 283). Blood as substance, however, is charged with significance precis ely because it is a dominant

symbol of the holistic caste ideology. It can come to be a powerful referent for racism in India because it has significance in the domain of caste interdepende nce. If this perspective is reversed, one is led to ask not what caste has come to mean in India, as Barnett has done, but rather how political protest movement s against caste have been articulated. Untouchability in India has been attacked from countless perspectives: the humanism of Gandhi, the democratic socialism o f Nehru, the egalitarian reform of the Arya Samaj, the proto-Buddhism of Ambedka r, and the militancy of the Dalit Panthers, to name but a few. All of these form s of protest attack the institution of untouchability and suggest reform through the promotion of ethnic pride, democracy, equality, or empowerment. Reform of t his type can work, and has been shown to work in particular cases. However, the fact that untouchables become Buddhists, Muslims, or advocates of democratic equ ality or leftist revolution does not challenge the principles of caste ideology as such. This point must be emphasized. One ideology can displace another, but w hat often happens is that formal change of this sort is rendered impotent by the pervasive power of the embedded ideology. Although religious and political refo rm movements can be effective, they do not, so to speak, take the bull by the ho rns. The encoded hegemonic forces of power are not confronted on their own terms when legislation or revolt is directed at social groups or institutions who sim ply manifest authority. Buddhist converts become stigmatized as untouchables; lo w-caste persons are denied access to education, legal process, political power, temples, tea shops, and gymnasia even when legislation and public opinion seem t o be in their interest. What is to be made of this paradox? I do not presume to have the whole answer, but in confronting the problem I do not locate power in t he institution of high caste groups as such, or with any group in particular. Th e invidious nature of deeply rooted power is manifested, among other places, in the code of purity and pollution. If, for example, stigma is located in physical contact and salivathat which pollutes tea cups and cigarettesthen one must addres s questions concerning the nature of ideological power to that level. To highlig ht the most invidious nature of power, Foucault has drawn attention along these lines to the historically situated human body (1978, 1979). My purpose in taking up the issue of caste ideology is to understand how invidious distinctions are encoded as dominant symbols in everyday life and how these symbols can be render ed less powerfulor equally powerful in a different waythrough counterinterpretatio n. Barnett has shown that blood purity can translate hierarchy into, among other things, racism. My point is that key symbols such as asceticism, which tend to reinforce hierarchy, at least in the context of the dominant caste ideology, can be reinterpreted to undercut caste principles. Although it may seem that wrestl ing has little to do with caste hierarchy, my argument is that it does. This is not because wrestling provides a forum for social protest against stratification , but rather because it is a context in which the meaning of particular key symb ols that relate to the embeddedness of caste are significantly reinterpreted thr ough the medium of the human body.

Body Discipline: The Mechanics of Reform Recently the body has become a subject of interest in anthropology and the other human sciences (cf. Blacking 1977; Com aroff 1985; Kunzel 1981; Scarry 1985; Scheper-Hughes and Lock 1987; B. Turner 19 84). While much of this literature is in the area of medical anthropology, there is also an extensive literature on embodiment and sport (cf. Morgan and Klaus 1 988). The literature on things somatic is, ofcourse, voluminous and incorporates a host of perspectives. Recent work has been most successful, however, in demonst rating that the body is not only good to think with as Lvi-Strauss (1966), Leach (1 958, 1976), Douglas (1970) and V. Turner (1969) might have it, but is also acted upon through what Foucault has termed a political anatomy. (cf. Scheper-Hughes an d Lock 1987). In this political anatomy the body is broken down into elemental u nits and physiological processes. It is made docile and subject, drained of any n atural process so that all processes reflect neither pure biology nor pure cultur e but a history of power relations (Foucault 1984b: 182). Foucault has referred to various disciplinary regimens as projects of docility wherein the biomechanics of control are located in the regulation of movementbalance, precision, gesture, posturerather than in the interpretation of signs (1979: 136). Everyone who has s tudied Hindu life has to some extent noted the importance of the body in ritual, health, cosmology, and everyday life. The institution of caste rules and regula tions is but one arena in which the Hindu body is made the docile subject of a p ervasive political anatomy. Dumont (1970) and others have noted that Hindu socie ty may be seen in terms of the largely somatic principles of purity and pollutio n. More recently Daniel, drawing in part on Marriott and Indens theory of coded s ubstance (1977), has suggested that caste is but one manifestation of a more bas ic scheme of differentially valued and ranked substances: blood, food properties, earth qualities, spatial aesthetics, and sexual fluids (1984: 2). What is at iss ue in this matrix of coded substance, I think, is the relationship between ident ity, culture, and the political anatomy to which the body is subject. To what ex tent, under what circumstances, in what shape, and with what qualifications does a person emerge from the intersection of these forces? It is against this backd rop of coded substance, rules of caste propriety, and somatic aesthetics that th e body of the wrestler may be seen, not simply as a signifier of meaning, but as a subject actor in a larger drama of culture and power. Since wrestling is so m eticulously concerned with a unique form of body disciplinewhich in Foucaults sens e is more a function of mechanics than meaningone is led to ask how this discipli ne affects identity. Who does the physically fit wrestler think he is, and how, by virtue of what he does, is he different from the average man on the street? T hese issues revolve, I think, around the nature of the person in Hindu South Asi a. Dumont was perhaps the first to clearly show how the ideology of caste struct ures identity. Where Dumont saw caste structure as the overarching rubric of cul ture and identity, others have posited a more elemental structure based on coded substance (Marriott and Inden

1977; Daniel 1984). Although Daniel has criticized the extreme ethnosociology Ma rriott advocates (ibid: 54), his own work is aimed, it seems to me, at the same level of analysis, even though it gets there by a different, more fluid route. R egardless, in most instances there is a good fit between these two modes of interp retationcaste-based principles or ethnosociologically defined codes of substanceif only because many codes are keyed to an ideology of caste. However, this is by no means always the case. As Daniels work in particular has suggested, there are many arenas where the fit is neither good nor complete, and so the person must n egotiate the rough terrain of an uncharted course. It is along these lines that the world of wrestling provides an interesting case in point. Wrestling is uniqu e in one respect, however. It takes direct issue with the lack of fit between a ca ste-based interpretation of the body and a distinct wrestling interpretation of the body. The exigency of close physical contact can not be ignored. That is, th e wrestler does not pander to the inconsistencies of forced rationalizationhe tak es the bull by the horns, so to speak, and marks off, in bold steps, the terms o f his own identity. He refuses to say that his world is of marginal, contingent significance. Unlike Barthess French wrestler, the Indian wrestler does not raise moral questions only for the sake of spectacle. He cannot simply leave the akha araa and safely say, this is this and that is that, for he embodies the contradi ctions his actions engender. In embodying moral questions the wrestler does not directly challenge caste values, but he does restructure some of the codes to su ch an extent as to throw into question the logic, and thereby the power, of the dominant ideology. 2. The Akhaaraa: Where Earth Is Turned Into Gold What is an a khaaraa? It is a place of recreation for youth. It is a shrine of strengrh where earth is turned into gold. It is a sign of masculinity and the assembly hall of invigorated youth. Strength is measured against strength and moves and counter moves are born and develop. An akhaaraa should be in an open area where fresh ai r and sunshine mingle. It should be away from dirt and filth and in a place wher e the earth is soft. It should be set off by a boundary of some sort and surroun ded by thick foliated trees. There should be water nearby. One should enter the akhaaraa after paying obeisance and offering up incense to the Lord. An akhaaraa is where one prays and where offerings are given and distributed. Its earth is saluted and taken up to anoint ones shoulders and head. And then one wrestles and the sound of slapping thighs and pounding chests fills the air. Grunts and groa ns of exertion echo ominously. One trounces and in turn is trounced. Exercise is done. Laziness and procrastination are drowned in sweat. The earth is mixed and finally one salutes the pit and leaves.

Aesthetics The spatial layout of an akhaaraa is important insofar as it produces a geomantic aura of invigorating peace and tranquility. The ideal location for an akhaaraa is a cool, clean, quiet area where one can get away from both an atm osphere of domestic obligation and an environment of work. One can well imagine the importance of such a place in the crowded environment of urban India. Howeve r, the aesthetic ideals apply equally to rural as well as urban akhaaraas. On en tering the compound of a number of different akhaaraas, I was asked if I could s ense an aura of shant (peace and tranquility). Indicating the shade of a tree, t he aroma of freshly moistened earth and the coolness of a refreshing breeze, wre stling friends would abandon themselves to a revery of cathartic relaxation. Ind eed, it seemed that many who came to Akhaaraa Ram Singh and the other akhaaraas I visited regularly did so in much the same way that one might visit a health sp a. Older men came to relax before going to work and younger boys would rest on t heir way to school. People with minor ailmentsconstipation, arthritis, backaches, skin infections, bruises, and sprainscame to the akhaaraa hoping to effect a cur e. Wrestling-pit earth and akhaaraa well water are both regarded as tonics which help to cure a host of common ailments. In many ways the earth pit functions mu ch like a mineral bath that has a reputation for healing. Many wrestlers I spoke with claimed that they had at one time or another suffered some debilitating il lness rheumatisum, consumption, heart weakness, high blood pressure, kidney stone sand that after visiting an akhaaraa and lying in the earth had been restored to perfect health. Akhaaraas have a definite aesthetic appeal. Their visual tone is picturesque. Consider, for example, Akhaaraa Bara Ganesh in the Lohatia bazaar of Banaras. The akhaaraa is not visible from the main street, but its location i s marked by the bright green leaves of a tall pipal tree and the thicker darker mass of a young nim (see plate 1). As the name implies, Lohatia bazaar is a meta l market and the main cobblestone road which runs through the market is lined wi th encroaching shops that sell thick-slatted parrot cages, buffalo tethering spi kes, drum-sized cauldrons for boiling milk, and ladles whose size would match th e cutlery of Ravanas kitchen. Anvils, arc-welders, and rivet wrenches spark, flas h, and grind as contractors turn out dozens of bathtub-size feeding troughs, eva porative air-coolers, and meter upon meter of chain link. Heading towards Maidag in and the old central post office, one turns left off the main road down a gali (narrow lane) which leads toward Bara Ganesh temple. A high river-rock retainin g wall parallels the left side of the gali which leads directly up to a niche-sh rine dedicated to lord Hanuman. Seated in the niche, a man reads verses from Tul asi Dass epic poem Ramacaritamanasa and dispenses Ganga river water and prasad (r itually blessed food offerings) to men on scooters on their way to work and to w omen returning home with bottles of milk, who stop to pay homage to the Lord. Ha wkers of marigold garlands, incense, jasmine flowers, and other ritual paraphern alia line the small path that turns left at the niche shrine and winds its way t o the gates of Ganeshs temple. Beggars mirror the hawkers on the opposite side of the path and benevolently accept alms from those in

search of grace. The path continues a short way beyond the temple gates until a short flight of stairs leads one up to the left, through an arch, and into the a khaaraa grounds. Bara Ganesh Akhaaraa is situated on a flat bluff twelve meters above the main Lohatia bazaar and some six meters above Ganeshs temple. The retai ning wall demarcates two edges of the compound, and buildings set off the other two sides, making a rough rectangle some forty meters long and seventeen meters wide. Although the akhaaraa is raised above the street and the temple gate, buil dings, spires, and crenellations frame the grounds and shade the pit from all bu t the midday sun. Walking up the stairs and through the arch, one directly faces the main Hanuman temple of the akhaaraa complex. The temple building itself is new: a modern, square, flat-roofed brick and concrete construction, lime-washed yellow. The image of Hanumanwho is serviced by a semiresident priestdates back to antiquity; I was told, There is not another one like it in Banaras. The grounds of the akhaaraa are ample, and since the guru of Akhaaraa Bara Ganesh is both a da iry farmer and a purveyor of sheet metal, the area in front of the temple is use d as a buffalo corral and a storage area for tin tubs, water tanks, buckets, roo fing material, and sundry other items. Lallu Pahalwaan, the guru of the akhaaraa , can be found every morning sitting on his cot among his buffalos dispensing fr esh milk from two polished tin buckets. Just beyond the buffalos and tin tubs is a brick water drain, which marks an important spatial boundary. On the temple s ide of the drain the ground is covered with stubbly grass, bits of old metal, bu ffalo dung, sleeping dogs, and playing children. In sharp contrast, the opposite side of the drain is smooth, flat, hard-packed earth from which playing childre n and wandering dogs are unceremoniously chased. This is where the akhaaraa prec inct begins. The akhaaraa precinct is almost completely shaded by two large tree s: a thick, broad nim that hangs low over the pit and a tall pipal that rises ab ove the well. Under the shade of these trees, in the shadow of bazaar buildings, set against the temple skyline, stands the pit. It is the focal point of the ak haaraa complex. Seven by seven meters square and a quartermeter high, the soft r ed earth forms a large raised arena. Six cement columns stand at the four corner s and at the center of two sides, supporting a tin roof which creates a canopy u nder the heavy branches of the nim. The columns are thickset, made of poured con crete and painted yellow. Each one is decorated with a mural drawing: a thickset wrestler lifting a nal (stone weight) over his head; another wrestler swinging a pair of joris; two wrestlers locked together measuring each others strength; Lo rd Hanuman flying through the air carrying a mountain in one hand and a mace in the other; Shiva bedecked in peacock feathers holding a flaming jori in either h and. Vases of flowers supported on the backs of jumping monkeys decorate the inn er face of the four corner columns. Intertwined blue cobras drinking from bowls of milk are juxtaposed on the center posts. On the temple side of the akhaaraa, overlooking the lane where mendicants and lepers beg

for alms and under the thickest branches of the nim, stands a short, thick, ston e dais. Lallu Pahalwaan can often be found reclining on the cool, hard stone hol ding audience with merchants, mendicants, and members of his family while castin g a benevolent yet critical eye on his practicing disciples. As Lallu reclines a nd his wards grapple, rhesus monkeys, in their haste to get a share of prasad at the temple, occasionally abandon the branches of the nim and race thunderously across the tin roof of the pit beating a tattoo matched only by the laborers in the gali below, who pound sheet metal into popsicle molds, leaf springs, and saw blades. The sound of monkeys on the roof, the gali, horns and bicycle bells on the road, prayer gongs in the temple, and ubiquitous loudspeakers broadcasting p opular film songs and praises to the gods all blend into a distant cacophonous r efrain that both envelopes and sets the akhaaraa apart, if only by contrast and juxtaposition. Across the pit from the gurus dais is a larger, wide stone bench u sed by the elder members of the akhaaraa, who come to relax and watch the younge r members practice. Behind this, and raised up half a meter, is a one-room cemen t building used to store exercise equipment, house visiting wrestlers, and chang e clothes, and to exercise and massage when the monsoon rains turn the hard-pack ed earth to mud. Rooted at the opposite corner of the pit from the nim, the pipa l tree is set in tiered, concentric circles of poured concrete. Built onto this in the lee of the trunk is a small, brightly painted shrine dedicated to the mem ory of a neighborhood saint. As the story goes, even after the saints death his f orm could be seen wandering around after dark. Once a curious neighbor followed the form and saw it disappear into the trunk of the pipal. A shrine was erected in propitiation, and a few devotees come regularly to make offerings and ask for boons. The figure of the saint, who stands behind the iron gate of the shrine i n a pose of contemplative prayer, is blessed, on occasions, by the akhaaraa prie st. The akhaaraa well is sunk behind the pipal. Being on high ground, the well i s deep and the water cool. A large bucket suspended from a cantilevered pully is used to draw water. Set into the edge of the well and along the base of the pip al is a large, green, moss-lined cement trough used to hold water drawn from the well. A spigot at the base of the trough allows the water to drain into the bat hing area, and from there out through the drain that marks the boundary of the a khaaraa precinct and into the toilet at the far edge of the compound. To appreci ate the aesthetics of the space I have described above, it is necessary to take the perspective of an akhaaraa member. Consider, for example, Amru Dada, who own s an extensive gold and silver business with a shop in the heart of the crowded Chauk Bazaar area of old Banaras. The shop is set in a narrow, busy gali off the main road. Though large as such shops go, it is cramped and confined. It is hot , and the air is redolent with incense, smoke, raw sewage, and dust. Amru Dada t ends the shop from ten in the morning until eight or nine at night. The clean, c ool air, soft earth, shaded light, and cold, fresh well water of the akhaaraa st and in sharp contrast with the thick, dense smells and harsh sounds of urban lif e that waft and resonate in the back galis. For Amru Dada the akhaaraa is a retr eat. It is also a much-needed escape for other wrestlers who labor as dairy farm ers,

clerks in government offices, cooks and waiters in hotels and sweet shops, dry-g oods merchants, policemen, railway personnel, hotel managers, military recruits, and pan hawkers. The akhaaraa is, as many were fond of telling me, eagerly in a nimated tones and pointed gestures and, at other times, in hushed, dreamy, relax ed voices, a world unto itself, a place set apart from the world of work and famil y, a peaceful place from which to draw strength. Atreya describes the aura of hi s akhaaraa at Kuthal Gate, Dehra Dun district: Upon arriving at this place one wi ll feel a mood of self-reflection. Thoughts will turn from instinct and mundane concerns to more philosophical questions. The place is charged with an atmospher e of metaphysical reflection (1981: 64). Earth, air, water, and trees are the ess ential features which give an akhaaraa its aesthetic appeal. The ambiance of an akhaaraa, however, is greater than the sum of these individual parts. Although t here are no rules that govern the spatial layout and geomantic ordering of trees relative to earth, air, and water, there is a sense that together they must com prise a picturesque integrated whole: a tableau of mutually dependent elements. The roots of the trees mingle with the water of the well; the air is cooled by t he shade of the trees and is scented by their leaves. The earth is bound by the roots of the trees and, like the water, it draws on the ineffable essence of the trees and imparts to them the resources of growth. The water dampens and cools the earth, and the earth keeps the water fresh. The interdependence of natural e lements reinforces a notion of the akhaaraa as self-contained, an aesthetic worl d unto itself. Chapter 6 of the Malla Purana(Sandesara and Mehta 1964) describes in some detail the exact dimensions of various types of wrestling pitssquare, re ctangular and round. This text also elaborates upon the quality of the pit earth , emphasizing that color and texture are important and that it must be pleasing t o see and as soft as that required for seed laying (ibid: 21). Sandesara and Meht a note that the mallas (wrestlers) of contemporary Gujarat mix various substance sbuttermilk, oil, red ochreinto the earth to enhance its quality and texture (ibid : 26). At various akhaaraas I have heard wrestlers talk of times when baskets fu ll of rose petals and bottles of fragrant perfume would be added to the pit. Tur meric is often mixed into the earth to enhance its healing properties (Vaishya 1 975). The earth of the pit is the nexus of the akhaaraa complex as a whole: it i s the distillate of the compounds physical elements and of its cultural meaning a s well. The earth is the essence of strength. The balance of earth, wind, water, and trees is best exemplified by Akhaaraa Bari Gaivi. Bari Gaivi is as much a th erapeutic akhaaraa as it is an active wrestling gymnasium. Most people who come t o the akhaaraa do so to drink the tonic water of the central well, which has a n ational reputation for curing gastrointestinal maladies. In addition to a wrestl ing pit and exercise area, Bari Gaivi has a well-established temple complex. The akhaaraa used to be outside the city limits in a thick forested area. Now the c ity has encroached on the akhaaraa, drawing it into a more urban environment. Ne vertheless, the akhaaraa grounds are clearly demarcated from the surrounding are a. On the periphery of

the grounds is a broad, sandy plain dotted with low scrub bushes. This plain ser ves a very important function in defining the akhaaraa space, for it is the dish a maidan (open area) where people go to defecate before exercising or drinking t he well water. Defecation has a very positive aesthetic appeal in the routine of akhaaraa attendance. It puts one in the mood to exercise or relax, I was told, by marking off both time and space. In effect, defecation is a form of sociosoma tic punctuation that indicates a transitional pause between the world of work an d the world of the akhaaraa. On a number of occasions when I visited akhaaraas I was asked whether I would like to defecate. Such inquiries were made in a very matter-of-fact manner, much as one might expect to be asked if a cup of tea woul d be in order at 4:30 in the afternoon. The sandy band of ground around Akhaaraa Bari Gaivi thus serves as a topographical boundary and as a place to move from one state of body/mind to another. Moving in concentrically from the band of san d, one finds five or six small ponds of swampy water that encircle the akhaaraa precinct. The water in these marshy ponds is used by those who defecate to clean themselves before coming into the akhaaraa proper. These swampy ponds serve as an important classificatory boundary, for they mark off the clean from the uncle an in terms both of a personal physical condition and geographical space. Inside the ring of pond water, up on a bluff, is a grove of trees which shade a small dharmashala (pilgrim rest-house), a large marble Hanuman temple, a new cement te mple dedicated to Shiva, numerous small shrines honoring saints and lesser local godlings, the tin-roofed pit, exercise area, and large cement platform used for resting, dressing, and discussion. The focal point of the akhaaraa is a deep we ll from which only the presiding guru is allowed to draw water. This well water is said to be very powerful. Its draws its strength from the geomancy of the are a, particularly the unique soil, the specific configuration of trees, and its pr oximity to the Ganga. No one may use this water for bathing. It is only for drin king, and one must drink it in litre draughts rather than by the glass. (This is said to be part of the prescription even for those who drink the water as a ton ic rather than as a cure.) I was asked numerous times how I felt after drinking the water: Has it settled your stomach? Do you feel different? Isnt it fresh and cooli ng? In effect, ingestion of the well water, which is the nexus of the akhaaraa, i s an internalization of the essence of the akhaaraa, a kind of geomantic sacrame nt. In this respect it provides a harmonic symmetry to the defecation in the san dy field. It further puts one in touch with the ineffable aura of the akhaaraa s pace. Evacuation on the periphery of the space is balanced and reflectedin invers ionby internalization at its hub. The body of the wrestler, or of any other akhaa raa visitor, mirrors through its action the spatial layout of the akhaaraa. Next to the drinking well at Bari Gaivi is a large sunken tank from which water is d rawn to dampen the ground and settle the compound dust. There is also a separate well used exclusively for washing clothes and bathing. This system of hydraulic classificationswampy water to clean ones anus, water to dampen the ground, water to wash ones self and ones

clothes, and water to drinkserves to structure akhaaraa space and ones movement th rough this space. After work many men come to the akhaaraa from all over the cit y of Banaras simply to defecate, drink some water, bathe, change clothes, and ta lk with friends. In this social context of camaraderie, the atmosphere and mood of the akhaaraa space is everything, for it charges these simple pleasures with th erapeutic significance. The mood and aesthetic appeal of the akhaaraa environmen t is captured in the term anand (satisfaction) which is used to summarize the fe eling that one comes to the akhaaraa to experience (cf. Kumar 1986, 1988). Paral lel to the picturesque aesthetic of the akhaaraa is its sanctity and purity. The akhaaraa is not only clean and pure in a physical sense, but it is also a holy place. The soil of the akhaaraa is most pure, as it represents the essence of Mo ther Earth. Water is naturally pure in Hindu cosmology, but the water of an akha araa well is considered purer than most. Similarly, pipal, banyan, and nim trees have general religious and ritual importance (R. Dixit 1967; R. Sharma n.d.), b ut those on akhaaraa grounds are charged with extra significance. Every akhaaraa has at least one shrine dedicated to Lord Hanuman. This shrine is the focus of akhaaraa religious activity. The image of Hanuman is cleaned at least twice a we ek and is anointed with sindur (vermilion paste). His clothes are cleaned regularl y, offerings are made to him twice a week, he is prayed to every morning when hi s blessing is invoked, and he is saluted whenever someone enters or leaves the a khaaraa. Most akhaaraas have numerous shrines and temples dedicated to a host of gods, goddesses, godlings, and saints. Lingams are often found either in shrine s by themselves, at the base of trees, or in conjunction with small images of Ha numan. Many akhaaraas also have a shrine dedicated to the founding guru. For ins tance, the images of Munni Pahalwaan in Delhi and Sant Ram in Banaras are life-s ize figures accorded a central position in their respective akhaaraa pantheons ( see plate 13). The founders of many akhaaraas are reputed to have been superhuma n, saintly men who possessed great spiritual and physical strength by virtue of their strict adherence to a wrestling regimen of diet, exercise, and religious f aith. Akhaaraa temples and shrines are serviced by informal functionaries who se rve as semiresident priests. Even predicated with the qualifiers informal and semir esident the term priest denotes a much too well-defined and structured role for w hat is, in fact, a purely ad hoc situation. A few examples will illustrate the p oint. On Tuesdays and Saturdays, the two days sacred to Hanuman, two men come to the Akhaaraa Ram Singh temple and offer prasad of crystallized sugar and soaked chana to the image of the Lord. This prasad is distributed among the wrestlers (who often demand a second handful) and the two men then return to their respect ive jobs, one as cloth

merchant and the other as coal trader. The two men are religiously disposed to the extent that they spend a great deal of their time reading scriptures and listen ing to the teachings of itinerant sannyaasis who hold forth in a nearby public p ark. That they service the akhaaraa temple is, however, purely coincidental and is neither mandated nor expected. Baba Bhole Das, a sannyaasi, has taken up resi dence and responsibility for the two large and elaborately decorated images of L ord Hanuman at Gaya Seth Akhaaraa. He goes about his task of washing and bathing the images while chanting softly to himself. Devotees who are not wrestlers com e and sing with Babaji on occasion, but for the most part he goes about his busi ness with little regard for the wrestling routine that structures akhaaraa life. Because Babaji is a mendicant it is his prerogative to service the akhaaraa tem ple, but it is also his prerogative to go on indefinite pilgrimage or to simply move on to some other place. Sonu Maharaj of Ram Kund Akhaaraa is a dry-goods me rchant. At sixty-two he has shifted his orientation away from his small business and toward devotion and a routine of contemplative prayer. He comes to the akha araa every morning with a bundle of jasmine and marigold flowers and lights a la mp and stick of incense in front of the figures of Hanuman, Shiva and Parvati, G anesh, and Surnath. Having blessed and garlanded each image he bows to the rock bench, which symbolizes the founding guru. He then digs the pit and calls on som e of the younger members to wrestle with him. Sonu affects the long hair of a me ndicant, and his social orientation is clearly otherworldly. There are many othe r examples of men who have taken it on themselves to serve as the guardians of a khaaraa shrines. Many of these men, like the wrestlers themselves, have oriented their lives away from everyday concerns of wealth and property and towards spir itual contemplation. Baba Shyam Lal of Bara Ganesh donates his annual earnings a s a metal merchant to the poor. Such men bring a sense of religious purpose to t he akhaaraas they serve. To some extent it may be said that akhaaraa temple func tionaries shoulder the burden of religious duty for all akhaaraa members. This i s particularly the case at Dharmsangh, Aghornath Takiya, Bari Gaivi, and other a khaaraas affiliated with large institutionalized religious centers. Despite the religiosity of these akhaaraas the role of temple priest is surprisingly marginal to the wrestling activities. When I spoke to the mahant (abbot, head priest) of the Aghornath Takiya complex it was apparent that he did not pay much attention to what went on in the akhaaraa itself. He was actively involved in philosophica l contemplation and metaphysical research and came into contact with the members of the akhaaraa only when arti puja was performed every evening at eight. Beyon d this he was not interested in the regimen the wrestlers followed. An akhaaraa as a whole may be considered to be a religious environment where exercise and wr estling are acts of devotion to a way of life. This is not meant in some abstrac t sense, for a literal parallel is drawn between the rote recitation of prayer a nd the repetitive

exercise routines performed every morning by wrestlers. Both require the same mi ndset and concentration. The very act of wrestling is charged with religious sig nificance. As the institutionalized icons of formal religion, temples and shrine s on akhaaraa grounds serve to enhance a general feeling of commitment to an ide alized way of life. All wrestlers are responsible for the akhaaraas environment o f religiosity, and they affect this as much through exercise as through washing the temple steps or lighting a votive lamp in the niche of a shrine. An akhaaraa pantheon is eclectic and extensive, and there is a regular regime of obeisance and ritualized prayer. However, there is not a rich or textured mystical appreci ation for things religious. Hanuman, for instance, is a real part of the akhaaraa complex, and as such his role is set and established. He marks certain attitudes and reaffirms precedents. For all his importance, however, he does not evoke an attitude of mystery or esoteric and problematic questions of theological faith. In a religious sense, Hanuman is a practical and pragmatic figure. Wrestlers do not discuss in any great detail or trouble themselves unduly over Hanumans metap hysical significance. What is important about him is self-evident and is regarde d by wrestlers as comfortably mundane. When I asked about the significance of si ndur, for instance, I was told that it was put on Hanuman in the same way that w restlers put on oil: as an invigorating tonic and a mark of beauty. Similarly, p rayers, offerings, and salutes to Hanuman are all interpreted in a generic sense as various forms of showing respect. Such acts are neither complex nor esoteric . As such they provide a deeply felt multidimensional psychological rootedness. A wrestlers general attitude is antimystical, where devotion is a holistic, pragm atic, and unambiguous way of life. The religious life of the akhaaraa complex is an important part of wrestling culture; yet prayer, obeisance, and other ritual events, while emotive, are not ecstatic. Nor are acts of propitiation, in and o f themselves, charged with complex significance. However much temples, shrines, lamps, garlands, and incense create an atmosphere of sanctity, these things do n ot indicate that formal religion subsumes akhaaraa life. It does not define the boundaries of wrestling life, but it does, as will be shown, provide a strong ba seline for the construction of personal identity. While pervasive, religion is s upplementary, and so one is more often than not religious as a wrestler rather t han a wrestler who happens to be religious. Daily Routine The details of daily r outine vary somewhat from one akhaaraa to another. Nevertheless, it is possible to discern some general patterns. Though not followed to the letter, important r ules define wrestling as a comprehensive discipline. A wrestlers quotidian schedu le is not strictly or dogmatically defined. Rules read more like a lexicon than a litany in the sense that what is ordered and given structure is not an outline per se but a scheme of elaboration. One is not solely enjoined to do something; how it is to be done, why it is

efficacious, and where it fits, etiologically, in the larger scheme of things is equally important. A wrestler is enjoined to wake at three in the morning, when the air is pure and cool. After drinking a glass of water with lime juice, he i s to go out into a forest area or scrub jungle and relieve himself. As Ratan Pat odi writes, although a wrestler is not a doctor, he should inspect his feces in order to evaluate his health. If it is coiled like a snake about to strike then hi s digestion is in good order. However, if it is loose, then he should consult hi s guru about a dietary change (1973a: 2425). Daily and regular evacuation of the bowels is also prescribed by Mujumdar (1950), for if the bowels are not clean, bl ood becomes impure and easily leads to disease (ibid: 675). Following evacuation, and before the sun rises, a wrestler should brush his teeth. This must be done before dawn because the warmth of the sun turns the food particles in the mouth into poison which can cause illness and indigestion. Moreover, the strong ultrav iolet light of the sun can cause a wrestlers vision to blur while he squats down to brush his teeth. Generally speaking, the cleaner ones teeth, the sharper ones v ision (Patodi 1973a: 25). Patodi further details rules for dental hygiene: One s hould only brush for five or six minutes otherwise the gums will be severely dam aged. God has placed two glands beneath the tongue which produce saliva and aid considerably in mastication and digestion. Excessive brushing can cause a reduct ion in the amount of saliva produced, and this will adversely affect digestion. One can use either babul or nim twigs for brushing, but one should not always us e nim. It is astringent and can burn ones mouth. The toasted skin of almonds is a lso a good tooth powder. I have seen that some people use burnt tobacco and snuf f but these tend to tarnish the natural brightness of ones teeth. It should also be remembered that after brushing one side of the mouth, one should rinse before brushing the other side. This prevents the germs of decay on one side from spre ading to the teeth on the other side (ibid: 2526). Of course, these prescriptions are not exclusively devised for wrestlers. Much of what wrestlers do as concern s personal hygiene and diet derives from Ayurvedic principals and other traditio ns of health and healing. Here, however, I am only concerned with the mechanical aesthetic of the acts that structure a wrestlers day, and not with the natural ec onomy of health per se. For a wrestler, brushing is an important part of an integ rated daily regime. Mujumdar is no less specific than Patodi in prescribing a re gime of dental hygiene for wrestlers. The following passage illustrates the fine detail and mechanical exactness of what is a very small part of a larger intric ate system. The toothbrush (Dantakashtha) should be made of a fresh twig of a tr ee or a bush grown on a commendable tract and it should be straight, not worm-ea ten, devoid of any knots, or utmost with one knot only and should be the width o f twelve fingers in length and like the small finger in girth. The potency and s trength of the twig [toothbrush] should be determined by or varying according to the season of the year and the preponderance of any particular Dosha in the phy sical temperament of its user. The twig of a plant possessed of

any of the four tastessweet, bitter, astringent, and pungentshould be the only kin d collected and used. Nimb is the best of all bitter trees, Khadira of the astri ngent ones, Madhuk of the sweet, and Karanja of the pungent ones. The teeth shou ld be daily cleaned with [a compound consisting of] honey, powdered tri-katu, tr i-varga, tejovati, Saindhava and oil. Each tooth should be separately cleansed w ith the cleansing paste applied on [the top of the twig bitten into the form of] a soft brush and care should be taken not to hurt the gums anyways during rubbi ng. . . . The use of a thin, smooth and flexible foil of gold, silver or wood, t en fingers in length is commended for the purpose of cleansing the tongue by scr aping. This gives relief and removes bad taste, foetor, swelling, and numbness o f the mouth (1950: 675). A regular feature of the morning activities at Akhaaraa Ram Singh would be for a junior wrestler to climb up the large nim tree and car efully select a number of twigs for the senior wrestlers to use. Senior wrestler s who no longer engage in wrestling practice would come to the akhaaraa and brus h their teeth with careful, if somewhat distracted, precision as they watched th e younger wards grapple. After a wrestler has brushed his teeth, he must bathe b efore entering the akhaaraa. As one person put it, One can and should bathe at an y time of day, but the morning bath is the most purifying. Not only does the morn ing bath make a person pure enough to enter the akhaaraa precinct, but it also [r ]emoves somnolence, body heat and fatigue. It allays thirst and checks itching a nd perspiration, brings on a fresh relish for food, removes all bodily impuritie s, clears the sense organs, gladdens the mind, purifies the blood, increases the appetising power, destroys drowsiness and sinful thoughts, and increases semen. The sight of a man is invigorated by applying cold water to the head at the tim e of bathing, while the pouring of warm water on the head tends to injure the ey esight (ibid: 679). Bathing in cold water invigorates the body in winter and cool s it in the summer. One should not bathe in very cold water when the air tempera ture is cold, or hot water when it is hot. This upsets the balance of the bodily humors. After bathing a wrestler should rub his body lightly with oil before st arting his morning regime of physical exercise and practice. Bathing, of course, has important ritual implications as well. The akhaaraa compound is pure, and o ne must wash away the impurities accrued to the body through secular everyday li fesleeping, eating, urinating, defecatingbefore entering the precinct. When visiti ng akhaaraas I was often asked whether or not I had bathed. An answer in the aff irmative ensured admittance. In the wrestlers mind there is only a very vague lin e, if any, between the health and ritual dimension of the morning bath. Religiou s qualities are somatically coded, and if one is impure, one is also unhealthy. Physical training is the focal point of a wrestlers daily routine and will be con sidered in detail in a later chapter. In outline, however, a wrestler starts his regime by running a few kilometers. He then digs the pit and wrestles with a nu mber of partners. The routine

concludes with a series of gymnastic and aerobic exercises. The whole schedule t akes some two and a half hours. After exercising, a wrestler rubs his body with the earth of the akhaaraa to dry his perspiration. This prevents his body from c ooling too rapidly, and thus guards against illness. While resting, he is rubbed down. As the earth dries on his skin it is scraped off by other wrestlers. By t he time the earth is scraped, the body is cool enough for the wrestler to bathe. It is vitally important that a person not bathe while still hot, for this will inevitably enrage the body and cause serious illness. A wrestler must urinate be fore bathing in order to relieve the bodys inner heat. I was often caught out on this fine point of keeping fit as wrestlers at Akhaaraa Ram Singh kept a more wa tchful eye on my movements than I was apt to do myself. On a few occasions I wit nessed other wrestlers who, on the verge of bathing, suddenly realized that they had not yet urinated. They would quickly retire to a nearby wall, set things ri ght, and thereby ensure better health. The whole body is anointed with mustard o il after bathing. This gives the skin a glossy radiance and a soft, uniform text ure. It prevents it from drying out and scaling. It also combines with the natur al odors of the body to produce a pleasant, clean fragrance. The application of oil to the body is an important part of massage, an integral part of the exercis e regime, and will be given due consideration in a later chapter. Some of the ef ficacious qualities of oil should be mentioned here, however, since anointing th e body as distinct from a full massageis an important part of the daily routine. A nointing the head with oil is a good cure for the affections of the head. It mak es the hair grow luxuriantly and imparts thickness, softness, and a dark gloss t o them. It soothes and invigorates the head and sense organs and removes the wri nkles of the face. Combing the hair improves its growth, removes dandruff and di rt and destroys the parasites of the scalp. Pouring oil [Karna-purana] into the cavities of the ears is highly efficacious in pains of the jaw, and acts as a go od cure for headache and earache. Anointing the feet with oil etc. brings on sle ep. It is refreshing and invigorating to the body and sight, removes all drowsin ess and sense of fatigue and softens the skin of the soles of the feet. Anointin g the body imparts a glossy softness to the skin, guards against the aggravation of the Vayu [wind] and the kapha [phlegm], improves the colour and strength and gives a tone to the rootprinciples [dhatus] of the body. The use of oil at a ba th causes the oil to penetrate into the system through the mouths of the arterie s, veins of the body, as [sic] also the roots of the hair, and thus soothes and invigorates the body with its own essence (ibid: 676). Wrestlers are enjoined to shave and cut their nails regularly. As Mujumdar notes, this leads to the expiat ion of ones sins, makes a man cheerful, and tends to appease his fate, increase h is energy and impart a lightness to his frame (ibid: 678). Clearly here there is a dramatic intersection of somatic practices, personality traits, auspiciousness , and karmic balance. In Banaras the English term personality was often used to de note such an intersection of physical health, beauty, and reputable character.

Having bathed, wrestlers offer prayers to Lord Hanuman. After dressing they show their respect to the guru by touching his feet. Asking his blessing, they leave the akhaaraa. A person must not eat or drink for two full hours after exercisin g. A wrestlers diet is an integral part of his regime. From roughly nine oclock, w hen the morning practice session ends, until four oclock, when the evening exerci se routine begins, a wrestler must rest, eat, and sleep. Although this is a passi ve part of the wrestlers regime, it is important for his recuperation and physical development. As everyone is quick to point out, to relax all day long is an unr ealistic prescription given modern priorities and work schedules. It is neverthe less an ideal that is taken very seriously. After morning practice most wrestler s go to work or to school. Many complain that there is not enough time for prope r training and that they are too tired to study or work. Anand, a wrestler at Ak haaraa Ram Singh, bicycles almost fifteen miles a day to attend the morning prac tice session. He then goes directly to school and then back to his village south of the city, where he must help out on the family farm. I would often be walkin g through downtown Banaras and be greeted by a wrestler working in his fathers sw eet shop, selling general merchandise, stacking gunnysack material, weighing coa l, or checking goods at the railway station. Even national-level champion wrestl ers hold jobs: Naresh Kumar is head clerk at the Delhi railway office (Asiaweek 1989); Chandagi Ram, the national champion of the late 1960s and early 1970s, is well known as master ji because of his training as a schoolteacher (Link 1969: 35 ; S. Sharma 1985). Regardless of the incompatibility of a wrestling lifestyle wi th the requirements and duties of working life, most who come to the akhaaraas h ave adapted to accommodate the rigors of work with a modified daily schedule of exercise, diet, and sleep. Many wrestlers now argue that formal education and wr estling are somewhat compatible (Areya 1978). While the wrestler rests his body he can develop his intellect; but this is something of a forced rationalization based on an artificial dichotomy of mind and body. Even when not achieved, the i deal of a purely akhaaraa-oriented schedule sets the tone for a wrestlers percept ion of his day. As such, it structures his attitude if not his time. Having eate n, rested, defecated, and bathed, wrestlers return to the akhaaraa at about four in the afternoon. Although the pit is dug for exercise, no wrestling is practic ed in the afternoon. The workout consists of a number of exercises and lasts abo ut three hours. After a second bath the wrestler leaves the akhaaraa. Before goi ng to sleep at sunset he eats and rests some more. Although sleeping is a period of inactivity, it is an important part of the wrestlers day. As Atreya writes in an article entitled The Place of Sleep and Rest in the Wrestling Regimen, sleep i s just as important as food, air, and water (1978: 19). Sleep is particularly im portant because it gives strained muscles and tendons a chance to recuperate. Sl eep transforms the fatigue of exertion into the vigor of stamina. It also promot es digestion and thus helps a person put on weight and gain strength. Going to s leep at a regular time and

getting enough sleep establishes a psychosomatic rhythm which produces a proper chemical and mineral balance in the body. In turn, this conditions the various b ody mechanisms responsible for producing semen. A lack of sleep produces illness , emaciation, weakness, impotence, and the risk of premature death. In general, wrestlers sleep better than other people because they exert themselves more. Wre stlers get more rest in a shorter period of time because their sleep is deeper a nd less agitated with dreams and restlessness. The exact amount of sleep one nee ds is something ones guru must determine, but the following points apply: A funda mental principle of wrestling is to go to sleep at sunset and wake three hours b efore dawn. One must sleep with an open window near ones head and never sleep wit h your head covered. Never sleep in the dew or on the damp ground. Sleeping on a comfortable cot or bed produces an efficacious rest and promotes endurance. Whe n fatigue and flatulence are expunged, then semen is produced. Sleeping on an un comfortable bed produces bad effects. This point needs to be emphasized. One sho uld turn over repeatedly while sleeping and never sleep flat on ones back. Also, the body will suffer if one goes to sleep on an empty stomach (ibid: 2324). Altho ugh a wrestlers bed should be comfortable, it should be hard rather than soft; a board is better than a rope cot. Sleep is the natural dharma of the body, writes A treya (ibid: 20), and so, for the wrestler and for all who aspire to health and long life, it is crucial that they not merely sleep, but sleep properly. When wr estlers talk of trips they have taken to tournaments away from home they often c omment on the nature and quality of the accomodations provided. The senior wrest lers of Akhaaraa Bara Ganesh told me many times how they hosted wrestlers from t he Punjab and made them very comfortable in a guest house/exercise room construc ted so that, among other things, it affords a healthy place to sleep. At a tourn ament in Gaziabad I was told by some of my Banaras acquaintances that they had p erformed badly on account of having had to sleep on the floor in a stuffy, crowd ed room. In my very first encounter with a wrestler he showed me his sleeping ac commodations and described the comfort and qualities of bed, mattress, and pillo w as an indication of how complete and well appointed were the facilities at his disposal. The daily life of a wrestler is a regime of integrated health and fit ness drawn out, on, through, and in his body. In this regard the guru is both ta skmaster and sculptor. As I was told by many wrestlers, a person must not so muc h as urinate or drink without first asking his gurus permission. A disciples role is not to think, but to be molded and shaped, to allow himself to be cut in the pattern of perfection. Subscription to this kind of discipline requires extreme self-sacrificeas a common aphorism has it, a willingness to chew iron chana or to dr ink a bitter cup. Total commitment to the espoused ideals is rarely if ever reali zed. Nevertheless, there is a strong feeling of obligation and responsibility to live by the spirit if not the letter of ones gurus prescripts. I have described i n some detail the routine of a wrestlers daily life. Considerable license is

given for idiosyncratic interpretation, and rationalizations abound for imperfect conduct. Some wrestlers advocate massage before practice as well as after. Other s disagree on whether or not to bathe in well water during the winter. Although most agree that it is proper to get up at three in the morning, the more usual p ractice is to wake at four-thirty or five. Similarly, most wrestlers wait only h alf an hour rather than the prescribed two hours after practice before drinking water or eating food. Very few go to bed at sunset. In spite of the inexact natu re and outright contradiction of some alternative practices, most wrestlers agre e with the basic tenets outlined above. If there is disagreement on the sequence of a particular part of the regime, more importance is placed on the rigor of w hatever one chooses to do rather than on protocol. One can do virtually anythingw ithin the tacitly agreed-on range of interpretations that make senseas long as it is logically rationalized and is not just a random whim. Moreover, an idiosyncr atic interpretation is more likely to be regarded as generally valid if it is ar ticulated in great detail. For instance, diet is often a topic on which there is a degree of disagreement. Some wrestlers advocate a vegetarian diet, while othe rs do not. The minority of Hindu wrestlers who eat meat are likely to give fairl y detailed reasons for why their body in particular either requires the benefici al properties which meat provides or is relatively immune to the adverse effects meat has on the body. I am almost certain that no one would explain eating meat purely in terms of taste. When a wrestler from the warm dry plains visited in t he cool damp hills he explained his request for chicken in terms of the warming effect it would have on his body. A wrestlers routine follows the pattern of a lo gical sequence of events built one upon the other. Sleep complements diet and ex ercise; bathing, dental hygiene, defecation, and sleep are all directly linked t o health and strength. Themes of physical purity, strength, semen production, an d aesthetic beauty run through and give continuity and texture to the days events . As such, the regime of day-to-day life does not read so much like a catalogue with separately articulated parts in cumulative sequence as it does a recipe whe re each step is important and unique in its own right and the sum is a complemen t of interdependent parts. For this reason the spirit of the law is more significa nt than a literal interpretation. It is not so important to figure out exactly w hat is best in any particular situation. What is important is that the whole rou tine be rhythmically structured and consistent with reference to itself. Lived p roperly, the whole day produces a whole, healthy, and harmonically balanced body . A wrestlers daily routine extends the world of wrestling out of the strictly de fined precinct of exercise and competition. It makes the practice of wrestling a significant factor in both the domestic sphere of family life and the world of work and labor. Concepts of health and strength are necessarily projected into t he home, the field, the shop, the office. Although the akhaaraa provides a pivot al point around which the wrestlers day is organized, a wrestler must also work a nd raise a family. It is therefore important briefly to consider the social comp osition of the Banaras wrestling community.

Akhaaraa Membership and Affiliation Akhaaraa membership is nearly impossible to determine in any objective empirical sense. Most akhaaraa elders with whom I spoke claimed that their irregular membe rshipthose who come when they have time but do not follow a strict regime of exerc isenumbered in the hundreds. Some elders generalized to the point of saying that everyone in their proximal neighborhood was in theory an akhaaraa member. Moreov er, a number of people claimed membership in one akhaaraa or another on the basi s of very casual and circuitous association: friends of friends, neighbors, or h yperextended kinship. The larger akhaaraasRam Singh, Bara Ganesh, Swaminath, and Gaya Sethestimate that their regular membership is between sixty and seventy. How ever, on any one day there are between twenty-five and thirty wrestlers who atte nd morning practice (see plate 12). At the smaller akhaaraasRam Kund, Ishvarigang i, Ram Sevak, Sant Ram, and Ragunath Maharajregular membership is between forty a nd fifty, with fifteen to twenty wrestlers attending on any one day. My use of t he term member refers to anyone who comes to an akhaaraa regularly, however regular ly may be defined. It is a purposefully vague formulation and is in keeping with the attitude of most wrestlers. An example will help illustrate this point. The akhaaraa with which I affiliated is formally known by the title Antrashtriya, Sa rwajanik Akhaaraa Ram Singh (The International, Public Akhaaraa Ram Singh) which appears in bold blue letters on the pavilions entablature. One year when the akh aaraa was repainted there was serious disagreement as to whether the word public ( sarwajanik) ought to be part of the official name. Most members say that an akha araa is eminently public and that this should be made explicit. Many members are proud of the fact that anyone can come to their akhaaraa. Exercise, they argue, is something that ought not to be restricted through exclusive membership. Howe ver, even those who aspire to such high ideals of egalitarian inclusiveness reco gnize that in some Hindu akhaaraas Muslims and untouchables are either overtly e xcluded or covertly discriminated against. One can say that the problematic mean ing of the term public is derived from the juxtaposition of a general ethic of equ ality set over and against social exclusiveness and caste chauvinism. The reason a number of akhaaraa members were against including the word public in the title was that it would reify a comfortably ambiguous situation. Those in favor wanted to preempt that ambiguity by formalizing an ideal of total inclusiveness. In th e end the word public was painted on the entablature, which played no small role i n the trials and tribulations of a not-quite-postpositivist ethnographers search for demographic statistics. Just how many wards do you have, Guru ji? I asked. And he replied, Who knows, my son, it is a public place. Although membership is free and easy, an initiation ceremony formally inducts a novice wrestler into an akha araa. The ritual of initiation varies from one akhaaraa to another but is genera lly as follows. After attending an akhaaraa for some time the guru will tell a w restler that it is time for his initiation. On the appointed day the young wrest ler brings

with him a new langot, a sapha (head cloth/turban), prasad (usually in the form of laddus made of besan [chickpea flour] and sugar), paraffin or oil, cotton to make a wick for the prayer lamp, and a garland of flowers to place around the im age of Hanuman. After practice the sapha and langot are offered to the guru alon g with cash. The sum is usually eleven rupees but any multiple of ten plus one i s acceptable. The guru then takes the garland and lights the lamp after placing the prasad in front of the figure of Hanuman. The initiate is asked to honor Lor d Hanuman and to swear allegiance to the akhaaraa and the founding guru. The pra sad is then taken and distributed among the other members of the akhaaraa. The c onclusion and most important part of the ceremony is when five laddus are taken and buried in the four corners and center of the pit. There is no drama associat ed with this rite. The whole event is rather low-key and does not seem to mark a dramatic change of status. The initiate still comes to the akhaaraa as before a nd there are no privileges attached to initiated membership. Indeed, the distinc tion between one who has and one who has not been initiated is rarely made. Init iation does establish a bond between guru and chela. Although a guru will instru ct an uninitiated member, it is said that a person can only really understand wh at a guru is telling him after having been initiated. Initiation is not a marker of membership in any empirical sense, but it effects a bond of respect and obli gation between teacher and disciple. Akhaaraa Demographics A survey of eight akhaaraas supports the general observation that there is littl e variation in the demographic profile of Banaras akhaaraas. There does not seem to be any variation in the caste, class, or status makeup of different akhaaraa s. Every akhaaraa I visited had a majority of Yadavs as regular members. Yadavs are a low-caste (technically Shudra) group with considerable political, economic , and demographic strength in the Banaras area. Their social mobility and group identity is linked to a longstanding traditional association with the military ( Rao 1964) and with wrestling. Although many Yadavs are lawyers, doctors, busines smen, teachers, and writers, many follow their traditional caste vocation of her ding and dairy farming. Of the 118 wrestlers interviewed, thirty-five reported t hat they were involved in some form of dairying or milk business. While most dai ry farmers are Yadavs, not all Yadavs who wrestle are dairy farmers. I would est imate that some 50 percent of all wrestlers in Banaras are Yadavs. Thakurs, incl uding Bhumihar Rais, comprise the second-largest caste group involved in wrestli ng, roughly 20 percent. Brahmans make up about 15 percent of the wrestling popul ation, with the remaining 15 percent coming from a wide range of caste groups in cluding Dhobis, Chandals, Chamars, Nais, and others. The clear majority of dairy farmers is explained not only by caste identity. Dairy farmers have direct acce ss to two of the most important and otherwise expensive ingredients in a wrestle rs diet: milk and ghi. In fact, the association between wrestling and dairy farmi ng in

Banaras is so great that men who deal in milk or milk products are called Pahalw aan irrespective of whether or not they take part in the regimen of practice and exercise. In general, many wrestlers are in business for themselves or in gover nment service. Apart from seven weavers, very few wrestlers with whom I spoke we re employed as factory workers or simple wage laborers. This may be a function o f sample error; however, it is important to note that the nature of work in a fa ctory or commercial handicraft industry would mitigate against a rigorous and ex acting extracurricular leisure activity such as wrestling. Workers who are paid a low daily or weekly wage may well frequent akhaaraas in order to bathe and relax , but in my casual as well as programmatic surveys of akhaaraa life I encountere d relatively few serious wrestlers who would fall in this class bracket. Similarly , although most wrestlers come from a comparatively low economic class bracket, irregularly employed wage laborersrickshaw pullers, street hawkers, and others wh ose income is low tend not to be involved in wrestling. A few brief portraits hel p fill out the occupational profile of the wrestling community: Kanta Pahalwaan is a railway porter who works at the Dehra Dun station. His family is from a vil lage in northwestern Bihar to which he returns every year to help with the harve st and planting. Although porters have a fairly secure position with the railway and are government-licensed, there are few perquisites. Income is low. Kanta sh ares room and board with other porters and sends money back to his family in Bih ar. Sita Ram Yadav came to Banaras as a young boy and found work with a wellknow n and respected wrestling patron, Ram Narian Sarien, who owns an umbrella shop i n the city. Ram Narian Sarien supported Sita Ram Yadav and saw to his training a s a young wrestler. After considerable success as a wrestler Sita Ram was given a job with the Banaras Diesel Locomotive Works, where he works as an office cler k. Dr. Shanti Prakash Atreya, one-time state wrestling champion of Uttar Pradesh , earned his M.A. and Ph.D. from Banaras Hindu University, where he has taught b oth yoga and philosophy. Atreya is currently affiliated as a teacher with a scho ol in Saharanpur. He also runs an institute for the study of yoga and psychology at Kuthal Gate in Dehra Dun District. His family lives in Bandarjuddha, a large , wealthy village near Deoband in Uttar Pradesh. Nathu Lal Yadav, the guru of Ka ranghanta Akhaaraa, is a well-known purveyor of pan. In his small shop, an exten sion of a shrine dedicated to Lord Shiva, there is room for one person only to s it. By his own admission Nathu Lal is more concerned with philosophical question s than he is with making money. As he points out, he enjoys what he does and it is enough to support him and his immediate family. Ram ji, a member of Jhalani A khaaraa, comes from a very well-to-do Yadav family who own a number of hotels, s weet shops, and other business interests in Banaras. Ram ji works under his brot her as the junior manager of one of the family hotels in Chaitganj.

Kaniya, a B.A. candidate at Banaras Hindu University, works at his fathers small tea and sweet shop. He regrets not having been able to take his degree sooner, b ut as the eldest son he is responsible for the day-to-day management of the fami ly business. Although wrestlers come from different economic backgrounds, wealth and social status are not very important factors in daily interaction. In terms of the wrestling ethic, wealth is simply irrelevant. Money enables one to have a better dietan important consideration in its own rightbut in and of itself money is not valued. This is not to say that poor wrestlers would not rather be rich or wish a better life for themselves and their families. Given the opportunity t hey would certainly seek to improve their lot. However, as an ethical life path wrestling takes precedence over material concerns of class and occupation. As we shall see in a later chapter, this is in part what gives it a utopian quality. Age and Education Of 123 wrestlers interviewed from eight akhaaraas, fifteen wer e under age fifteen, fifty-five were between the ages of fifteen and twenty-thre e, twenty-eight were between the ages of twenty-three and thirty-five, and twent y-five were over thirty-five years old. This indicates not only the obviousthat m ost wrestlers are teenagers or young men in their early twentiesbut also that men in their mid- to late twenties and early thirties are not very involved in akha araa activities. Once men marry and take on the responsibility of raising a fami ly they tend to come to the akhaaraa less frequently. When they have established an occupation of some sort and have children of their own, these men return to the akhaaraa as senior members. On account of this there is a sharp generational break in the membership of most akhaaraas. Senior members are to junior members as fathers are to sons or uncles to nephews. Respect, however, is tempered with a good deal of joking and informality. True respect is reserved for the guru. I t is also important to note that wrestlers who are between twenty-three and thir ty-five years old are usually the ones who have made a name for themselves. Thou gh numerically in the minority, as individuals they represent an ideal and have great prestige. These members are regarded as quintessential wrestlers and virtu ally define the quality of the akhaaraa by their presence. Shamu Pahalwaan of Ak haaraa Ram Singh is one such wrestler, and Ashok Kumar, who has taken part in na tional and international competitions, is another. Krishna Kumar Singh of Bara G anesh has won national recognition as a wrestler for the northern railway team, and Ram ji, of Jhalani Akhaaraa, has won titles in Delhi and Uttar Pradesh state tournaments. Educational experience corresponds to the generational split in ak haaraa membership. Older members are not educated to the same level as younger m embers. Of those over thirty-five, only two had the equivalent of a high-school degree. Most were educated up to a sixth-grade level. All were literate but four had gone to school for less than two years.

In sharp contrast are the data on the educational background of the ninety-nine wrestlers interviewed who were under the age of thirty-five: as of 1987, two had M.A. degrees, fourteen had B.A. degrees, thirty had the equivalent of a high-sc hool diploma, and one had left school in tenth grade, thirteen in the ninth, eig hteen in the eighth, four in the seventh, and nineteen in the fifth. Even though these data are biased by the fact that Banaras is a cultural and intellectual c enter, the fact remains that a significant percentage of young wrestlers are wel l educated compared to their senior fellows. Having said this, it must be pointe d out that education, like wealth, is not a very significant factor in the schem e of akhaaraa activities. Education is valuable in its own right but does not fi gure in the wrestling rubric as a particularly important virtue. Learning and wi sdom are of great importance in the construction of a wrestlers identity, but edu cation is not regarded as the source of these skills. Where it is seen as valuab le is as a prerequisite for modern life and as a vehicle for gaining employment, but this is more by default than by design. As it is institutionalized in moder n India, formal education is regarded by cynical wrestlers as a somewhat benign manifestation of modern moral decay. It does not inspire; it creates an irrevere nt attitude and a general lack of respect. The value of education is not in its innate virtue but in its practical utility. For instance, while generally decryi ng modern materialist preoccupations with status and upward mobility, one wrestl er spent a hot summer day networking so that his nephew and niece would gain adm ission into a wellregarded elementary school. By way of contrast, Atma Rams fathe r places no stock in a formal education. Instead he sent his son to the akhaaraa , saying that there he will learn all that he needs to know. Atma Ram is illiter ate, but at age twenty-two he is known in Banaras as a good wrestler. Friends ha ve been networking to get him employment with the railway. Anand Rais father, a s choolteacher in Kotdwar and well-to-do land owner in Banaras district, appreciat es the value of a good education but recognizes the virtue of akhaaraa training. Anand bicycles the fifteen kilometers to Akhaaraa Ram Singh every morning and t hen goes from the akhaaraa to school. When Anand was about twenty-three, after t hree failed attempts, he finally passed his matriculation exams and his father i nvited members of the akhaaraa and village neighbors to a banquet celebration. A t the banquet Anand was admonished to keep up with his physical training and to develop himself as a good wrestler. The following amalgam describes the typical Banaras wrestler with the least synoptic violence. He is a boy in his late teens who is nearing the end of his intermediate education. Some members of his famil y live in Banaras city proper while others live in a village not too far away. I n the city he lives in a small, modestly appointed cement building. One or two o f this typical wrestlers elder brothers used to wrestle and he had an uncle who, despite hardship, was the champion of his village district. One of his older broth ers runs a dairy enterprise and has rented space on the outskirts of the city wh ere twelve or thirteen buffalos are tethered. The other brother works in a modes t sweet shop located off a main

street. The typical wrestler hopes to join the army, the police, or the railway, but his father in the village needs help managing the familys land holdings, and so the wrestler is forced to curb his ambition in the interest of more immediat e demands. It must be emphasized, however, that within the framework of a wrestl ing way of life, family wealth and status are not important considerations. As a wrestler Atma, who can neither read nor write, is on the same footing as Babul, who has a B.A. from Banaras Hindu University. Similarly, Ashok, whose family ow ns only a few buffalos and a small tea shop, is a better wrestler than is Ram ji , who comes from one of the wealthiest families in Banaras. The claim that educa tion and wealth are unimportant factors in the akhaaraa would be false and acrim onious but for the fact that wrestling is not just an extracurricular leisure ac tivity. It is, rather, a holistic integrated way of life. As a person, a wrestle r must of necessity live in a world of social and economic obligation where stat us, class rank, and educational training play a strong hand. As a wrestler, howe ver, a person must bracket himself out of the obligations and expectations which ensue from his involvement in this larger, divisive world. The complex and prob lematic nature of this important attitude will be taken up in a later chapter. Akhaaraas and Bodybuilding Clubs Wrestling akhaaraas stand in sharp contrast to bodybuilding clubs in Banaras. Bo dybuilding clubs are a fairly recent phenomenon in India, dating perhaps to the early part of the twentieth century, when Ram Murti Naidu, among others, establi shed institutes for physical training and exercise. In Banaras today bodybuildin g is modeled on a Western aesthetic and on Western notions of strength and fitne ss. Wrestlers and bodybuilders sharply juxtapose their respective activities. Ea ch defines himself against the negative backdrop of the other, self-definition t hrough a we-are-not-like-them formulation. As with any such formulation there are enough parallels between the two activities to generate a dialectic rather than to create a situation of total rejection and disregard. In the interest of summa rizing what an akhaaraa is in terms of aesthetic appeal, health nexus, and demog raphic composition, it is useful to reflect the akhaaraa, as a whole, against it s more modern analog. The Mazdoor Health Improvement Association, established in 1931 to foster ideals of physical fitness and national self-determination among mazdurs (wage laborers), is located down a small gali in Madanpura. The associa tion is almost entirely Muslim, and most of the members come from the immediate neighborhood of Al lu ka Masjid. Many current members work in the area as weavers , traders, transporters, or tailors of silk and other fabrics. The gali is narro w, dark, and, as with other such galis in Banaras, littered with refuse and pile s of rubble. Open doors look in on huge looms sunk into the floors of

family houses, where young children sit and weave the silk saris for which Banar as is famous. The gym is open only at night. At about 6:00 P.M. the first member to arrive picks up the key from Masooms pan shop just across the road from the g ali entrance. A sign above the gym door announces the name of the organization i n English and in Urdu and Devanagari script. The gym is a small room, six meters square, crowded with dumbbells, weightlifting bars, weights of all sizes and sh apes, a set of parallel bars, and a chin-up bar hung on old rusted chains suspen ded from a sagging central beam. In one corner is a broken pulley and bicycle-ch ain contraption used to lift a stack of iron-plate weights. Next to the parallel bars is an improvised bench-press board, and in front of that, set into the har d-packed earth floor, a set of wooden stumps on which to do push-ups. Pegs are s et into the lime-washed bricks on each wall. Members hold on to these and stand on polished wooden boards while doing squats and deep knee bends. The boards kee p the floor dry, for otherwise sweat would quickly turn the earth to slippery mu d. The central column, decorated with mirrors, supports a ceiling sagged under t he weight of three upper floors. Other mirrors decorate three of the walls. Betw een the mirrors and the iron-barred windows which look out narrowly onto a small dusty garden, old black and white portraits of local champions palely reflect t he technicolor aura of pin-ups from American bodybuilding magazines. A raised ar ea two and a half meters square is set apart in the small room and on it are fou r large chairs and a carpet. A small ceiling fan turns above this area, cooling the club manager and others who come to watch the regular members exercise. Betw een two of the chairs and one wall is a two by one-half meter area used for chan ging. Clothes are hung on pegs above the chairs and the parallel bars. On the wa ll above the platform are old photos of the founding association. A few plaques, commemorating long since forgotten functions, recall a time when the club had a larger membership. A penned poster, set on a shallow ledge above a covered buck et of tap water, states the club rules in Urdu script. If there is one word whic h characterizes the Mazdoor Health Improvement Association, it is compact; there is a certain aesthetic appeal to the close-fitting, womblike character of the p lace. Contrary to what one might expect, the air in the gym is a quite pleasant combination of musty earth, mustard oil and sweat. Exercise is done with mechani cal efficiency. A person doing push-ups makes way for a person doing squats who is just beyond the arch of another person swinging on the parallel bars. No more than thirteen people can exercise in the gym at any one time, and even with nin e people working out, movement must be choreographed for efficiency and safety. The contrast with wrestling akhaaraas is obvious. While both are clearly bounded arenas, the bodybuilding club is closed and confined while the akhaaraa is open . Earth, water,

wind, and trees have no place in the confines of the closed, covered, mechanized space of the gym. If there is a dramatic difference in the relative aesthetic a ppeal of clubs and akhaaraas, there is an even more significant difference conce rning management and organization. Wrestling akhaaraas are the essence of inform ality. There are few if any set duties, offices, or responsibilities. The guru i s nominally in charge of all akhaaraa facilities and activities, but in fact an ad hoc committee of elder members often serves as a decision-making body. The En glish term committee is used by akhaaraa members to refer to any group of two or m ore who come to a decision on any subject; for example, taking up a collection f or a new bucket and rope for the akhaaraa well, buying fresh lime-wash for repai nting the akhaaraa buildings, negotiating for a truckload of earth for the pit, or persuading someone to paint new designs on the akhaaraa walls. In any akhaara a, as in many other social contexts, there are those who take charge of situatio ns and are able to motivate people and implement their own ideas. There are also inevitable conflicts of interest and points of view. But there is no codified s tructure to this kind of management and organization. In the akhaaraa there is a n informal pecking order which ensures that things get done. At the top of the p ecking order is the guru and his cohort of senior members: a very loosely define d group at best. If the guru makes a demand of some sort it is acted on immediat ely and without comment. The gurus age cohort, known as dadas, can order anyone w ho is a junior member to do such things as fetch incense for the morning pit ben ediction, get mustard oil from a nearby shop, pick up flower garlands, run vario us errands anywhere in town, draw water for a bath, deliver a message, sweep fal len leaves from the akhaaraa compound, throw water on the earth to settle the du st, climb up a tree to break off a toothbrush, put equipment away, wash clothes, or chase a stray dog out of the pit. Among the junior members beneath the dada cohort, seniority and age structure the pecking order. Older members may pass on responsibility to anyone younger and less aggressive than themselves. The ethic of respect for ones elders is used as a moral lever. There is merit in being of service. However, the pecking order is characterized as much by acrimony as by s mooth efficiency, as one dada discovered when he spent a whole morning cursing t he laziness and disrespect of the younger generation while fishing with a large hook for a bucket lost at the bottom of the well. While the pecking order is hie rarchically multitiered in theory, in fact it is always the youngest members wit h whom the buck stops. During my stay at the akhaaraa young Kailash was always g oing off to get something for someone, Airi was always called upon to perform hi s expert massage, and Govind was chasing stray dogs and cows; unless someone you nger has come along, Rajindar may still be drawing water from the well. In any c ase, water gets drawn and the grounds are kept clean, but often to the tune of h alf-meant threats, disgruntled retorts, and a great deal of joking. The akhaaraa is characterized by a lack of bureaucracy and by ad hoc management. By way

of contrast, the following is an index of the offices of the Banaras School of P hysical Culture, a bodybuilding club in Jangambari: Chief Patron, Mr. Dalip Kuma r (IAS), district officer and president of the association for the advancement o f physical education; Patron, Mr. N. G. Bhattacharya, regional sports officer an d secretary of the association for the advancement of physical education; Physic al Director, Dr. Uma Shankar Rai Chaudhuri; President, Mr. Raj Kumar; Vice-Presi dent, Mr. Ajay Sharma. The list continues with such titles as chief officer, dep uty officer, secretary, chief in charge of the club, and treasurer. In addition to these permanent officers, a chief advisor was appointed to organize the clubs annual bodybuilding competition. In this capacity he was supported by seven depu ty advisors, an organizer, deputy organizer, organizing committee, committee in charge of the competition, and a committee in charge of prizes. Where akhaaraas are ad hoc, clubs seem to be obsessive about a strict division of administrative labor. I have no idea how responsibility was distributed through the administra tive hierarchy of the Jangambari club, or how decisions were made at any one lev el. A similar hierarchy of management appears on the letterhead of the Bhelupura Vyayamshala, another bodybuilding club, which also sponsors an annual competiti on. The Bhelupura Vyayamshala also illustrates another striking contrast between akhaaraas and clubs. Stepping into many bodybuilding clubs, the first thing tha t strikes the eye is a prominently posted list of rules and regulations. At Bhel upura Vyayamshala the rules are as follows: 1. Non-members are not allowed in wi thout permission. 2. Members may not bring friends with them into the club. 3. E very member must pay a 2 rupee membership fee by the fifteenth of each month. 4. The gym will be open from 58 AM and from 511 PM. 5. The gym will be closed every Sunday. 6. No one is allowed to enter the exercise temple wearing their shoes. 7. No smoking or chewing tobacco in the gym. 8. No spitting anywhere in the compoun d. 9. Everyone must be careful and watch out that others are exercising safely. 10. If someone breaks any piece of equipment he is responsible for its replaceme nt. 11. Members should park their bicycles where they wont get in the way. Simila r rules are found posted in other bodybuilding clubs, but I have never seen a po sted list of regulations at any akhaaraa where wrestling is practiced. Wrestling akhaaraas are governed more by established precedent and the model of the guru than by objective rules as such. Wrestlers would agree with the injunction again st tobacco, but their abstinence derives from moral conviction rather than a con cern for regulations per se. While bodybuilding clubs follow the Western calenda r and take Sunday off, akhaaraas break their weekly routine on Wednesday. Unlike the clubs, akhaaraas are not closed on

their day off. Wednesday is a day for massage in the akhaaraa and is thus integral to the weekly regime. In the akhaaraa, spitting, flatulence, and nose blowing a re restricted to the border area of the compound where they do not threaten the purity of the sacred space. In the club, spitting is more an issue of generic hy giene than of moral, somatic health. In the akhaaraa purity rather than civic-mi ndedness is as much if not more of an issue. In the club, spitting must be stipu lated against, while in the akhaaraa the same restraint is inspired by ideologic al conviction and is therefore a point of common sense. Membership is another cr ucial point of difference between the club and the akhaaraa. Every exercise club I visited charged a monthly membership fee. On the other hand, akhaaraa members consider fees to be anathema. None of the akhaaraas I visited charged fees of a ny kind. Moreover, clubs often keep careful record of who has and has not paid, thus sharply defining membership. Akhaaraa membership, as we have seen, is emine ntly flexible and variable. Whereas clubs are exclusive and private, wrestlers s ee the akhaaraa as an inclusive, public arena. Because of membership dues, bodyb uilding clubs are able to finance building repairs, equipment improvement, and f airly lavish annual events. There are other expenses as well. The Mazdoor Health Improvement Association must pay rent on its small room and also cover the cost of electricity. In contrast to club dues, akhaaraas draw all of their resources from chanda, public donations collected from members, neighborhood residents, a nd local businesses. Taking up chanda is an ad hoc activity. If a new rope is ne eded, a few of the akhaaraa dadas get together and share the expense. Expenses a re minimal. I have never known of a wrestling akhaaraa on which rent was paid. E lectricity is rarely needed, but for the occasional installation of a light or f an it is most often donated by a wealthy member. When there is a large expense, such as the annual Nag Panchami festival or construction of a new building, the chanda is more formal and structured. However, the money collected is almost alw ays designated for a specific project. Contributing to a chanda is one way in wh ich the larger akhaaraa neighborhood can participate in wrestling activities. A person who contributes two thousand rupees towards a new akhaaraa pit achieves s tatus in proportion to his contribution. For their part, the akhaaraa members re ceive public acclaim and prestige in proportion to the total amount collected. W hile chanda is a common way for many groupstemple associations, neighborhood comm ittees, and union fundraisers to raise money, it is characteristic of the akhaara a system of organization rather than of the bodybuilding club. Monthly dues, tho ugh nominal, restrict membership. A few clubs, such as the wellfurnished Health Improvement Association, charge a very exclusive one hundred rupees per month. S ome clubs have a wealthier clientele than others. This is not the pattern in akh aaraas, where the economic and social profile of the wrestling community is fair ly eclectic. Rich and poor wrestlers meet on common ground. Although I have not collected a

great deal of information on bodybuilding club membership, my general impression is that specific bodybuilding clubs restrict membership to particular groups. A s noted, a large number of Muslims have become avid bodybuilders. Muslims aside, bodybuilding seems to be popular among many of the more Westernized urban youth. The aesthetic of the bodybuilders sleek physique is in keeping with other Western images of fast motorcycles, high-tech sound systems, digital watches, and so fo rth. Some exercise clubs, like the Mazdoor Health Improvement Association, were established to target a particular class of people such as the urban labor force . The Banaras School of Physical Culture was established in 1943 for the benefit of lower class children. My impression is that many bodybuilding clubs were estab lished by paternalistic upper-class patrons who felt some kind of commitment to better the health of Indias masses. In other words, initial impetus and funding f or groups like the Mazdoor Health Improvement Association, Banaras School of Phy sical Culture, and Bhelupura Vyayamshala seems to have come from wealthy doctors , bankers, and industrialists. I was shown around one of these clubs by a young, wealthy accountant who said that his family had a long-standing role in maintai ning exercise facilities for the poorer, disadvantaged youth of the city. By con trast, one does not find any kind of exclusive recruitment strategy or class-bas ed paternalism in the akhaaraa. No particular group is targeted. Akhaaraa member s make a general appeal for everyone to join an akhaaraa, but this is inclusive rather than exclusive and is, as we shall see, part of a broader nationalistic r hetoric. A final point of contrast between the akhaaraa and the club concerns th e place of formal religion in the organizational scheme of daily activities. Tem ples give akhaaraas an atmosphere of religiosity, and every wrestler is enjoined to take Hanuman into his heart. In contrast, bodybuilding clubs are for the mos t part secular institutions. Small Hanuman shrines are found at Bhelupura Vyayam shala, the Banaras School of Physical Culture, and, as the name might imply, Han uman Vyayamshala. In every instance these shrines are small and marginal. The me mbers are more concerned with the cut of their muscles and the trimness of their w aists than they are with contemplating Hanumans service to Ram. Besides, Hanumans physique is not that of a bodybuilder, except as portrayed in some modern calend ar art, but that of a wrestler. Bodybuilders defer to Hanuman, but they draw the ir strength almost exclusively from pumping iron and not from the devotional exerc ise of a daily regimen. Wrestlers in Banaras point towards bodybuilders and crit icize their balloonlike bodies, which have form but no substance. They smirk at na rrow waists that would snap in two at the slightest touch, and grimace at protru ding tendons wrapped tight by the work of an iron machine. One wrestler laughed at the picture of a bodybuilder, saying that he looked like separate pieces of m eat slapped together in a random manner. Another, echoing a similar aesthetic cr itique, said that bodybuilders look as though they come in parts, each a gross p rotrusion disembodied from its larger corporeal context. While the bodybuilder i s

seen as bits and pieces of random flesh, the wrestlers body is a smooth, integrat ed whole; as they say, ek rang ka sharir, a body of one color and uniform textur e (see plate 2). Wrestlers regard bodybuilding clubs as mere pale reflections of the akhaaraa. For their part some club members see akhaaraas as simply anachron istic institutions following the dictates of outmoded tradition. (In general exe rcise-club members are far more tolerant of akhaaraas than the other way around. ) I have made a rather sharp distinction between the akhaaraa and the bodybuildi ng club. In doing so some points of overlap between the two styles of physical c ulture have been deemphasized. But this, too, is in keeping with the perspective of both wrestlers and bodybuilders. Somewhat like closely allied and therefore antagonistic academic disciplines, both groups prefer to define their respective paths clearly and sharply rather than blur together formal and superficial simi larities. Whether motivated by strong conviction or fear that the edifice of dif ference will crumble once assailed, the wrestler and the bodybuilder choose to n arrow their respective visions while at the same time magnifying the significanc e of their singular predilections. Each defines itself against a negative backdr op of the other. In the case of wrestlers, this delineation serves to make the a khaaraa more distinct and therefore more clearly defined as the locus of a speci fic way of life. 3. Gurus and Chelas: The Alchemy of Discipleship When I asked h im, Guruji, why is it that you have never married? he answered, Who says that Im not married? I have married wrestling and the children of this marriage are my disc iples. Guruship The concept of guru has been popularized to the point of parody, and it i s difficult to approach the topic without stumbling over stereotypes and misconc eptions. Spiritual teachers of all persuasions abound, and even those who espous e truth with conviction suffer the stigma of fraud. Paraphrasing a verse of scri pture, and putting the institution of guruship in a wrestling perspective, Atrey a put it this way: In this dark age there are many gurus who plunder their discip les wealth, but the guru is not to be found who is able to wipe sorrow from his d isciples brow. Wrestling is not immune to this modern malady, and there are as man y charlatans in the akhaaraa as there are in the temple, spiritual retreat, musi c hall, dance gharana (intellectual lineage or school of artistic style), or any o ther arena where the institution of guruship prevails. Nevertheless, whether rea lized or imagined, the persona of the guru is an important concept in the wrestl ing rubric. In this rubric ideals are more real than actual human experience, an d the guru lives more as a figure of speech than as a flesh and blood

teacher. Fraud gives way to faith which is often blind. The wrestling guru is la rger than life. What he is supposed to be can transcend what he is. For instance , one of the gurus I knew in Banaras was very fond of chewing tobacco and would carefully prepare himself a tack while decrying the evils of intoxication. Anoth er publicly advocated a vegetarian diet but ate chicken in private. Even the few gurus who subscribe to rigid moral values are often very wealthy and find thems elves unable to affect an ideal of world renunciation and nonmateriality. Hypocr isy is not necessarily reprehensible. A distinction must be made between rationa lization on the one hand and fraud on the other. As any nonpartisan will explain , every guru has blemishes; stories of avarice, greed, pride, and impropriety ar e as common as they are subjective. Within reason, however, vice can be tempered with virtue. A guru may not practice, to the letter, what he preaches, but as l ong as he upholds the ideal of the institution that he represents, then the pers ona of the guru remains unjaded. Purists would argue that a tainted person color s the persona he affects and that any guru worth the name must suffer no human f ailings. This, too, is part of the charade of affected rationalization and serve s, in the final instance, to bolster an image of ideal perfection. Who, after al l, will cast the first stone? Arguably, all gurus are charlatans, some more than others, but this in no way under-cuts the significance of what guruship stands for in the akhaaraa. As I was told repeatedly, the single thing that a disciple must do in order to become a good wrestler is surrender himself completely to th e service of his guru. Blind faith and absolute obedience are basic prerequisite s. Banarsi Pande, a senior member of Akhaaraa Ram Singh, graduate of the Nationa l Institute of Sports in Patiala, and licensed international referee, tells of w hen he would go early in the morning to massage his gurus feet, wash his clothes, and prepare his morning meal. Similar accounts were given by many other wrestle rs. On my second day at Akhaaraa Ram Singh I was preparing to enter the pit whil e other wrestlers undressed, bathed and oiled themselves according to establishe d precedent. Suddenly one of the younger wrestlers shouted out, Guru ji, Guru ji a nd the whole crowd of wrestlershalf-clothed, langots flying loose, oil bottles ti pping overmoved as one body in the direction of a thinnish young man who had ente red the compound from a door behind the Hanuman shrine. Airi, the one who had se en the guru first, dropped the broom with which he was sweeping the sides of the pit and threw himself prostrate at the gurus feet. Others came and touched the g urus feet with equal respect but much less drama. In the akhaaraa the guru is reg arded with absolute respect and subservience. Even the most mundane tasksgiving a massage, running errands, drawing bath water, and washing clothesare regarded as meritorious when performed for ones guru. Touching his feet is a sign of total d evotion. The gurus I knew in Banaras did not make a pretense of perfection. This penultimate status and its attendant respect is usually deferred and attributed to the founding guru of each akhaaraa: Babu Pande, Ram Singh, Jaddu Seth, Ragun ath Maharaj, Sant Ram, Ram Sevak, Gaya Seth, Kon Bhatt Swaminath, and so forth. I n this way the perfect persona is

comfortably situated in an idealized past when gurus were truly saints. Although each akhaaraa has a guru in residence, some of whom are accorded more respect t han others, a wrestler looks to the founding guru for moral, spiritual, and pers onal guidance. In some instances the resident guru of an akhaaraa is a lineal de scendant of the founding guru, but this is more often the exception than the rul e. For instance, at Akhaaraa Ram Singh, Jaddu Singh is the youngest brother of t he founding guru. He acts out the role of guru whenever required, but he always does so in his elder brother Ram Singhs name. A large framed portrait of Ram Sing h is garlanded and brought out whenever Jaddu is called upon to act as the akhaa raas guru. Ram Singh and Jaddu aside, many of the members of Akhaaraa Ram Singh r ecognize Lakshmi Kant Pande as their guru. He is the one whose feet are touched and to whom sweets are proffered out of respect. For his part, L. K. Pande is a senior member of the akhaaraa and recognizes Ram Singh as his guru. Kaniya Yadav and Sohan, both young men in their early thirties, also recognize Ram Singh as their guru but have taken it upon themselves to train the junior members of the akhaaraa. Although they are not themselves referred to as gurus, they perform th e role and are accorded a great deal of respect by very junior wrestlers. Akhaar aa Ram Singh has a profusion of men who act as gurus, but all of them defer to t he persona of Ram Singh. In some respects the situation is more straightforward in other akhaaraas. At Bara Ganesh, for instance, Lallu Pahalwaan is the fifth-g eneration lineal guru of his akhaaraa. However, Kaniya Lal Yadav is also recogni zed as a guru. Lallu and he seem to share the status while most of the actual tr aining and instruction is given by Babul Pahalwaan, a senior member. At Gaya Set h, Manohar Pahalwaan fills the role of guru insofar as the other members touch h is feet and show respect in various other ways. Manohar also takes a very active role in instruction. However, whenever his elder brother comes to the akhaaraa Manohar and the other members defer to him. Theoretically a gurus authority is un ambiguous and absolute. As these examples show, in Banaras akhaaraas at least, a uthority is neither rigidly established nor codified. Moreover, authority is not necessarily the primary issue (or when it is, it is a one-on-one issue between disciple and guru). As Nathu Lal Yadav pointed out, a person can learn from ten different people and may go from one teacher to another, as he sees fit, to bene fit from a spectrum of knowledge. However, he must keep his true gurus image in his heart. To devote oneself solely to eclectic instruction is to end up with piece meal, unsubstantial knowledge. Thus, as L. K. Pande pointed out, when he was a y oung boy wrestling at Ram Singhs Akhaaraa he would regularly visit the three othe r akhaaraas in the Beniya Bagh area. These three akhaaraas, now defunct, were ru n by Muslim gurus (known as ustads) of renown, and Pande said that he would have been foolish not to avail himself of their skill. Regardless, the guru of his h eart, so to speak, was without a doubt Ram Singh. In music and dance the gharana is a formal institution structured by lineal descent wherein a disciple can tra ce his or her affiliation back through a long line of gurus. Each gharana has a unique style and is often associated with a particular part of the country (Neum an 1990: 145167). One can easily classify and locate a person in the world of mus ic and

dance by discovering their gharana affiliation. Given that there are many formal parallels between wrestling gurus and gurus in other disciplines, one would exp ect to find that wrestling would mirror the pedagogical structure of music, danc e, and other such arts. This is not the case. A wrestling disciple will know his own guru and his gurus guru, but it is rare for him to know the lineage any furt her than this. Wrestling gurus develop their own techniques of training and inve nt new moves and countermoves, but the process is both too haphazard and too pub lic to refer to such innovations as the unique patented style of one guru or ano ther. No guru will divulge his particular method of training. In part this is be cause it is secret knowledge, but more importantly it is because a guru manipula tes each wrestlers regime to accommodate idiosyncrasies and predispositions. If t he wrestler is strong, the guru will develop his speed; if the wrestler is fast he will work on his strength, and so forth. A guru does not have a generic strat egy which he imposes indiscriminately on his wards. He cannot, therefore, articu late his particular style as such. In Banaras in 1987, almost all of the pedagog ical situations of guru-disciple interaction were of a fairly standard type. The wrestler would apply a move or a countermove and the guru would then either do and say nothing, which was most often the case, or he would offer a critique of the move and show the wrestler how to correct his balance and grip or more effec tively apply force. The same principle held true for exercise. Gurus would watch their wards and demonstrate the correct technique or else physically adjust the wrestlers body to conform to an imagined ideal. At the two akhaaraas where gurus were regularly present, Akhaaraa Gaya Seth and Akhaaraa Bara Ganesh, their prim ary role was in telling their wards what to do, with whom, and when. That is, th ey set activities in motion and determined who would wrestle whom for how long a nd who would do how many of what kind of exercise in which order. It is interest ing to note that, for whatever reasons, wrestling gurus tend to be soft-spoken a nd in fact say very little at all during the course of a session. They may demon strate a move but it is incumbent on the disciple to learn through practice. Pur ists may argue that this is evidence of a general decay in the guru/chela relati onship, and that true gurus used to patrol their akhaaraas, switch in hand, ready to punish any wrestler who failed to apply a move well or who tired too quickly. Perhaps gurus are not as strict as they once were or as skilled as before; the point is moot. My impression is that the pedagogical relationship between a guru and his disciple has always been structurally informal while spiritually and ps ychologically strict. As such, the institution of guruship remains intact as a g uiding principle in the world of wrestling. Irrespective of this idiosyncratic m ode of pedagogy, who a guru is is far more important than how or even what he te aches. As Nathu Lal Yadav told me in an interview on the subject, Guruship is a t hrone and anyone may sit on it provided he has character. Whether a person is yo ung or old he must have character. He must have a strong will and

be of a peaceful disposition so that he can listen to what ten people say and ac t in such a way that all ten will be happy. A wrestlers success depends more on hi s attitude and comportment than on pedagogy. By keeping the image of ones guru in mind one can overcome seemingly insurmountable odds. The attitude of a disciple towards his guru is as important as the gurus own personal virtue and skill (Kes riya 1972). The role of the discipleblind faith and unquestioning serviceis manife sted in the ritual of Guru Puja, a minor calendrical festival which falls on the full moon of the Hindu month of Ashadha (JuneJuly). Disciples are enjoined to pr ay and show respect for their guru on this day. On the morning of Guru Puja I we nt to Akhaaraa Ram Singh, expecting, as I had been told, to witness a formal rit ual of worship. Everyone with whom I spoke said emphatically that all members of the akhaaraa would attend the ceremony. Instead it seemed as though attendance was, if anything, less than usual. Jaddu, the nominal guru, brought out the fram ed portrait of his brother Ram Singh, and, lighting a stick of incense, placed t he photograph at one corner of the Hanuman shrine. He then stood around the akha araa waiting for members to make some sort of offering. A few, but not many, did . There was no special puja and everyone went about their activities as though n othing was going on. The reason for this lackluster attitude was undoubtedly the fact that the wrestlers of Akhaaraa Ram Singh recognize a number of different m en as their guru. In the evening I went to another Guru Puja ceremony at Kashi V yayamshala, a large gymnasium overlooking the Ganga. I was again disappointed th at the guru, Parasnath Sharma, was not present. I was introduced instead to his younger brother, who was sitting in to receive the disciples. As we sat on the p arapet wall overlooking the river and talked into the dusk, members came by and made cash and flower offerings. In turn, they were blessed with a vermilion tika placed on their foreheads. The pujas at Kashi Vyayamshala and Akhaaraa Ram Sing h were anticlimactic and confirmed my impression that the idea of guruship is fa r more powerful than the enactment of any formal role. As many of my pragmatic a nd somewhat cynical wrestling friends remarked, it may just be a sign of the tim es. Returning through the galis from Kashi Vyayamshala, I was accosted at a corn er milk shop by an acquaintance from Ragunath Maharaj Akhaaraa. He asked if I wa s going to his akhaaraa to see the jori-swinging demonstration being put on as a Guru Puja celebration. I said yes, and after a glass of warm milk we set off ba ck through the galis. Guru Puja at Ragunath Maharaj Akhaaraa was obviously a mor e formal affair than at Kashi Vyayamshala or at Akhaaraa Ram Singh. The small co urtyard was crowded with welldressed, middle-aged men sitting and standing casua lly. As I came into the akhaaraa, space

was made for me to sit on a bench adjacent to the pit. The guru of the akhaaraa sat up on a raised dais above the pit in front of a small Hanuman shrine. His po se was benevolent and paternal with an aura of divinity enhanced by countless fl ower garlands draped around his neck, arranged on the dais, and strewn at his fe et. Quarter-kilogram paper boxes of sweets proffered in offering were arranged h aphazardly in front of the gurus dais. A brass tray containing incense, holy wate r, vermilion paste, parched rice, and chana was situated near the gurus right kne e. As disciples filed in and paid their respects the guru blessed them each with a tika. Some disciples came only to pay their respects and make an offering, bu t most came to stay awhile and talk with friends. As disciples came in and the c ourtyard filled up, Baccha Pahalwaan, one of the champions of Banaras, prepared himself to swing a pair of Ragunath Maharajs prize joris. These joris are brought out only on special occasions and are decorated with detailed floral designs. J ori swinging is an art akin to wrestling. Some akhaaraas are devoted exclusively to jori swinging but are nevertheless organized along the same lines as wrestli ng akhaaraas. The worldview is identical. In wrestling akhaaraas, joris are swun g for exercise as part of the larger regime. In jori akhaaraas, swinging is an a rt in itself. From start to finish a swing is carefully choreographed. An entour age of four members carefully scraped old resin from the handles of the prize jo ris that Baccha was to swing. Fresh rock-resin was powdered on the surface of a smooth stone. The earth of the hard-packed pit was pounded to ensure a stable, f irm footing. Under the watchful eye of the guru and the appreciative gaze of the crowd, one member of the entourage oiled Baccha Pahalwaans shoulders. The oil wa s to ensure that Bacchas arms would be both flexible and strong. On the smooth ea rth directly in front of the gurus dais three square stones were arranged: two in front, one atop the other, and a single one in back set squarely into the earth . Each member of the entourage checked and rechecked the stones to ensure their stability. The guru looked on, saying nothing. Everyone watched carefully and co mmented on the size of the joris, the detail of the design, and on Bacchas youthf ul strength. Night had fallen and the orange light of the single bulb traced the shadows of the slowly turning fan blades over the crowd. Its light glinted off Bacchas oiled shoulders and reflected off the red earth and the yellow lime-washe d walls. The guru sat in repose, cauled in the glow of green neon that emanated from the shrine behind him. After warming up with a pair of light joris, Baccha and his entourage prepared to swing the floral jori. With his right foot on the front stones and his left on the lower rear stone, Baccha positioned the two jor is to his liking. He shifted his weight forward and back until the balance seeme d just right. Two members from the entourage then came forward. As one dried Bac chas underarms, forearms, thighs, and faceit was very hot despite the slowly

turning fanthe other applied a thin, even layer of resin to each handle. The hum of conversation from the crowded courtyard quieted and mirrored the silence of t he guru. Baccha then looked directly at the guru and asked permission to begin. With wrists forward and his weight on his raised right foot Baccha swung the eig hty-kilogram jori first forward slightly and then, with increasing pendulum moti on, back and forth three times. On the fourth forward swing he lunged with the w eight of the joris and jumped off the raised stone platform. Twisting wrist, elb ow, and shoulder so as to stand the joris up, one on each shoulder, he landed on his knees in front of the guru who looked on benevolently as the crowded courty ard erupted in cheers and applause. Two members of the entourage quickly took ho ld of the joris, and after setting them down went to work repowdering them with resin and wiping them clean of sweat. After a brief rest Baccha set his feet squ arely on a neatly smoothed area of particularly hard earth. His face, arms, and legs were again wiped off and careful attention was given to ensure that the pal m of each hand was dry. The joris were placed on either side and slightly in fro nt of his legs. Two members placed the flats of their hands on top of each knobb ed handle and hooked an arm under the thick end of each jori. Baccha again asked the guru for permission to begin and immediately the joris were lifted high on extended arms and lowered, each in turn, gently onto Bacchas shoulders. Taking a moment to get his balance he ensured that his grip was firmly set. The entourage coordinator, a senior member of the akhaaraa, stood directly in front and rough ly half a meter away from Baccha. Baccha began to swing the joris behind his bac k in alternating pendulum arches. The senior member counted out each swing as th e crowd kept empathic time. As each jori lifted up, twisted, and landed on Bacch as shoulder the crowed sighed in sympathetic encouragement. Bacchas firm stance sh ifted under the weight and momentum of the swinging joris. The senior member mov ed with him so as to keep looking directly at his face. As Bacchas strength began to wane the encouragement of the crowd swelled with each swing until the slowin g momentum of each upward arch was no longer enough. First one and then the othe r jori crashed into the earth in front of the gurus dais. The whole performance w as explicitly staged for the benefit of the guru. It was a dramatic demonstratio n of strength and skill, an enactment of the relationship between guru and disci ple. Throughout the performance the passive benevolence of the guru was effected with a practiced hand. He sat as an emblem, an icon of divinity, learning, wisd om and experience. The jori demonstration was, in effect, not only a staged show of physical accomplishment. Like the garlands and the sweets, it was a religiou s offering to the guru as god. Gurus are human, but their persona is divine. As Nathu Lal Yadav explained, one prays to ones guru in the same way that one prays to and honors Lord Hanuman. As Atreya pointed out, teaching does not distinguish a guru. A guru is one who can show his disciples

the right path to follow: the way to realize a dream. As a divine persona the gu ru is often an oblique rather than a direct teacher. A wrestler must practice an d train but, equally important, he must think upon his guru and draw strength from mystical contemplation. The path of right conduct is indicated and alluded to b y a guru but never revealed as such. As an attitude, devotion prepares the disci ple for spiritual realization, but the final step must always be his own. In the akhaaraa wrestlers are enjoined to keep the image of their guru set in their mi nds eye. As Atreya explained, they must make themselves into empty vessels which can be filled with the gurus wisdom. A disciple cannot take knowledge; it must be given, and the exercise of learning is to prepare oneself to receive. The Chara cter of a Guru The concepts of spiritual shakti, devotion, and world-renunciatio n are of central importance to a wrestling way of life. For a young wrestler the se values are difficult to understand and harder still to reconcile with a world ly life. The guru represents these values and makes them tangible. He serves as interpreter and exemplar, as commentary and commentator, a self-reflective media tor between divine ideals and lived experience. Uddhava asked Krishna: Oh Lord of hallowing glory! What kind of person is regarded as a saint by you? Krishna repl ied saying: Such a sage is compassionate; he never envies or harms any creature; is full of fortitude; firm and strong in truthfulness; of pure mind; . . . equi poised in pleasure and pain; . . . obliging unto all. His mind is never perturbe d by desires; his senses are fully under control; he is gentle hearted; of pure (perfectly moral) conduct; devoid of all possessions; free from desires; . . . m oderate in eating and drinking; serene in mind, firm in his own dharma, seeking asylum in me, and contemplative of nature. He is ever alert and vigilant; of dee p mind; . . . full of grit (in the face of danger); free from the six worries of bodily defect (viz. hunger and thirst, grief and infatuation, old age and death ); though himself indifferent to worldly honor [he] pays respect (to the worthy) ; possesses aptitude and willingness to impart knowledge; [is a] a sincere frien d; merciful in behavior, and endowed with spiritual knowledge (Bhagavata Purana 11.11.26, 2931; Shastris translation, 1978). In essence this is the character of a wrestling guru. Atreya quotes sections of this passage in his article The Place of the Guru in Indian Wrestling (19721973: 21). He also references other passages which litany the virtues of saintly character (Bhagavad Gita, chap. 12; Bhagavat a Purana 2.3.1832 as referenced in Sources of Indian Tradition, Embree 1988: 32532 6). The best-known guru of Indian wrestling is Guru Hanuman, whose wards practic e in the Birla Mill Vyayamshala near the Sabji Mandi in Old Delhi. Guru Hanuman is famous

because he has trained many of Indias champion wrestlersVed Prakash, Satpal, and S uresh, among others. For whatever reasonshis skill as a coach, the resources he h as at his disposal through the aegis of his wealthy patron, or his ability to in spire greatness Guru Hanuman is regarded as the personification of what a wrestl ing guru ought to be. Whenever wrestling is mentioned in the media (which is not very often) he is almost always the archetype (Bose 1967; Datta 1970; Flory 197 0; Link 1970). A whole issue of the journal Bharatiya Kushti is dedicated to Gur u Hanuman, and in essay after essay he is praised for having produced, as more t han one author has put it, so many shining stars which have made India bright (Pat odi 1983). Some verses from a poem about Guru Hanuman, written by Pahalwaan Dane sh Kumar Vishnowi, capture the essence of his iconic persona: The artistic skill of the Great Guru reverberates through a thousand worlds. His one and only conc ern is how to make children stronger. With strength, with wisdom, with his reput ation has he made India rejoice. He has made India mature and wise and has given his experience to the young (1986: 43). As a popular adage among wrestlers has it, a guru is like an alchemical paras stone: able to turn iron to gold but unab le to change itself into anything else, or to change anything else into itself. A guru is a pure agent of transformation. He must by definition expect and accep t the fact that ultimately his disciples will be stronger, more virtuous, more s aintly, and more skilled than himself. He can set an example and only hope that it will be improved upon. Gurus fall far short of the high standards set for the m. Nevertheless, they still stand for what they do not personally achieve and ca n thus indicate to others the path which leads to a utopian way of life. It is n ot, therefore, a critical paradoxa crisis of faith, if you willthat gurus do not a lways practice what they preach. For what a disciple sees in a gurus action is an ideal. He can read between the lines of paradoxmaterial wealth, social status, a nd rank; he can see virtues of humility and abnegation rather than the common hu man failings of avarice and greed. Gurus represent an ideal way of life, and in his guru a wrestler never sees hypocrisy. He sees the possibility of what he mus t try to become. Along these lines, consider an extract from the biography of Sw ami Ustad Fakir Chand Shukla, a wrestling guru of renown: It must be an isolated person among the lovers of exercise who is unfamiliar with the name of the grea t and undefeated, Ustad Fakir Chand Shukla. As well as a wrestler, he was known as a great doctor and as a man of learning. He was the very image of renunciatio n. He gave hundreds of thousands of rupees for the advancement of strength, lear ning and wisdom. His life itself was a donation to public service. He gave every thing that he had to religion and wrestling.

Self-realization does not come with the success of ones family, nor with wealth o r the performance of sacrifices. The nectar of self realization comes only with renunciation. The soul is not revealed through physical strength, wisdom or lear ning. Benevolence is above all of these, just as the season of spring brings blo ssoms to trees and flowers. The soul is not concerned with redemption. It is ded icated to the service of goodness and truth. This incomparably great and sinless soul has dedicated himself to the service and benefit of society. The poet Nari an has written some verses to honor the sage and I quote a few lines here: He wa s a priest and a devotee of Lord Shiva He was fearless. He was as peaceful as a forest glade. He was firm in his beliefs. He was a great wrestler, and the shini ng light of the akhaaraa. He was a generous benefactor, and gave alms to beggers . He was calm of mind, but his body was hard (1973: 43, 45). The character of a guru is linked to the identity of a sannyaasi who renounces the world in pursuit of enlightenment. As a sannyaasi, a guru draws on his spiritual strength to bri ng disciples closer to ideals of religious and physical perfection. It is throug h the persona of the guru that the link between world renunciation and physical strength is made most strongly. The ideal of sannyas belongs, of course, to a la rge and extensive religious system that spans well beyond the bounds of Indian w restling. The wrestling guru channels powerful and pervasive ideals of spiritual self-realization into very specific forms of physical energy and moral strength . As will be seen in a later chapter, the character of the guru points wrestlers in the direction of sannyas. Wrestlers translate progress along that clearly de fined path into success in the world of wrestling. A guru is a conduit to a high er state of knowledge. One must dissolve oneself into the image of the guru in o rder to achieve this state. There is no structured pattern that defines which pa th to follow. Poetic spirituality rather than rule-bound precedent is taken as t he template of practical experience. As will be discussed later, Hanuman, the ar chetype of devotion and righteous conduct, provides a model for effecting this k ind of alchemical selfdissolution.

4. The Patron and the Wrestler As institutionalized support for wrestling, publi c patronage is an integral feature of akhaaraa life. It is, however, a knotty an d elusive issue, because it can mean two radically different things. On the one hand is what may be called the patronage of financial support, which is fairly s traightforward. A patron may build an akhaaraa, pay his wrestlers a weekly stipe nd, and award them prizes for their success. On the other hand patronage require s an attitude of moral and ethical support; a kind of ideological underwriting o f the wrestlers way of life. From this perspective the nature of patronage is qui te different. It is neither wholly institutionalized in a particular person or o ffice nor is it necessary that tangible material support be provided. On this le vel patronage is regarded more as an attitude than anything else. It remains pat ronage, however, to the extent that it is an attitude of explicit support for a unique way of life. In terms of levels of abstraction, patronage of this kind is akin to the disembodied persona of the guru. On a practical level patronage ful fills a very specific function. Because wrestlers must commit their lives to tra ining and exercise they cannot support themselves financially. Patrons take fina ncial responsibility for a wrestlers training by providing milk, ghi, and almonds as well as some clothes and other incidentals. The patron also provides the akh aaraa facilities: earth for the pit, ropes, buckets, cement, and bricks, as well as the land on which the pavilion is built. Even when a patrons role is clearly defined in terms of financial responsibilities, the relationship he has with his wrestlers is not strictly utilitarian. In fact, the material aspect of the rela tionship between wrestler and patron is regarded as mundane almost to the point of insignificance. Far more important are the issues of status and esteem. Patro ns acquire status through the success of their wrestlers, and wrestlers gain est eem through the status of their patrons. It is a mutually beneficial relationshi p. Patrons are responsible for the public image of their wrestlers. It is as tho ugh the wrestler, concerned as he is with the rigors of a daily regime, can only stand for, and not elaborate, the way of life he represents. He is a mute symbo l: a stark register of coded meaning which requires public interpretation. Witho ut patronage, a wrestler can, in the language of structuralism, only signifyhis b ody stands for morality and chastitybut he is powerless and unable to convey the story of his way of life to a larger audience. The patron gives meaning to what a wrestler simply stands for. He reads a series of elaborate themes, plots and s ubplots into the coded meanings of his wrestlers body. The wrestler is an empty v essel which the guru must fill with knowledge, skill, and virtue. The patron tak es this and gives it public meaning and significance. In a sense, then, the patr on is sponsor, publicist, and biographer, and in all of these capacities he is t he author who takes the private discipline of a wrestling way of life and makes it intelligible to a larger audience.

While what it means to be a wrestler is given public interpretation through patr onage, wrestlers are not silent partners to an illegitimate (if laudatory) readi ng of their way of life. In the akhaaraa, and within the world of wrestling, the symbolic components of the body convey a set of standardized meanings on which any wrestler can build and from which he can elaborate and interpret various sit uations. When the point of reference is changed from an exclusively wrestling co ntext to a larger and more overtly political arena, however, then the reading of these symbols changes somewhat. In the akhaaraa wrestlers speak their own cultu ral language of somaticitythe body of one color as a product of self-discipline. Patrons appropriate this language, rephrase it, manipulate its poetry, and make it their own. Nevertheless, the voices that speak from behind the patron are sti ll those of the wrestlers themselves. Royal Patronage Royal courts and princely estates have sponsored wrestlers probably since the time of Kansa, Krishna, Rava na, and the Pandava brothers. However, there is no detailed historical record of this and no way of telling whether wrestling patronage has changed over time. I n all likelihood, the formal aspect of patronage has not changed significantly ( cf. Rai 1984: 221247). Kings have kept wrestlers because the physical strength of the wrestler symbolizes the political might of the king. In the epic poems, and in some of the Puranas, wrestlers are portrayed as warriors who not only symbol ize power and prestige but also effect it as their patrons martial arm. In his ma ny wrestling battles Hanuman may be seen as both a symbol of Rams power and as a warrior/agent in the war on Lanka. This is also clearly the case in the Harivams a story where Krishna and Balarama defeat Kansas court wrestlers. Krishna, thus p laying with Chanura for a while, adopted his own form as a chastiser of the wick ed, and then the earth shook and the jewels on the diadem of Kansa fell on the g round. Krishna pressed down Chanura, and placing his knees on his breast he stru ck a fierce blow with his fist on his head (Harivamsa, chap. 86, Bose n.d.). Kri shna then proceeds to move from a symbolic to a literal victory over Kansa: He j umped on the royal platform, and caught hold of Kansa by the hair. This sudden a ttack completely overwhelmed the king. Garlands, earrings and other ornaments fe ll from his body. Krishna tied his neck by his cloth and dragged him down to the ground. Then he killed him (ibid). One of the best early accounts of wrestling patronage is found in the western Chaulukya king Somesvaras (11241138) Manasollasa (Srigondekar 1959). The chapter entitled Malla Vinod describes the classification of wrestlers into types by age, size, and strength. It also outlines how the wre stlers were to exercise and what they were to eat. In particular the king was re sponsible for providing the wrestlers with pulses, meat, milk, sugar, and high-cl ass

sweets. The wrestlers were kept isolated from the women of the court and were ex pected to devote themselves to building their bodies (Mujumdar 1950: 11). Accord ing to a number of sources (Khedkar 1959; R. B. Pandey n.d.; Suryavanshi 1962; V erma 1970; K. C. Yadav 1957; Yadavkumar 1982) the Yadava kings and nobles of the early to middle medieval period were avid wrestlers and sponsored numerous tour naments. However, few details are known beyond the fact that many of the kings w ho ruled the great Vijayanagar Deccan kingdom (13361565) practiced wrestling alon g with other martial arts (Mujumdar 1950: 15). Krishnadevraj is said to have dru nk about a pound and a half of sesame oil every morning. The symbolic equation b etween physical strength and political might is also found in more contemporary historical accounts. In a number of the Mogul court records references are found which indicate that wrestlers were part of a rulers estate. Indications are that wrestlers were paid a regular stipend and were also given provisions for mainta ining themselves (Beveridge 1921: 656, 660, 683; Blochmann 18731948: 253; Mujumda r 1950: 16; T. N. Roy 1939). In turn they were called upon to entertain the roya l court. Bouts were organized with wrestlers from other courts. According to Muj umdar, the great Maratha leader Shivaji established numerous akhaaraas throughou t Maharashtra at the behest of his guru Samrath Ramdas (1950: 18). During the Ma ratha period, Maharaja Daulatarao Shinde is said to have kept a wrestler on a da ily allowance of twenty pounds of milk and a sheep (ibid: 20). The best account of a royal akhaaraa for this period is that of Nanasaheb Peshwa. According to Mu jumdar his akhaaraa was equipped with twenty-four different pieces of exercise e quipment (ibid: 21). Bajirao II also built and maintained a fully equipped akhaa raa and established Balambhaat Dada Deodhar as the guru of this facility. Later Deodhar and his disciples moved to Banaras where they established an akhaaraa no w known as Kon Bhatt Akhaaraa in the Bibihatia neighborhood. Although the eviden ce is scant it would be a fair to say that court wrestlers during the Mogul and Maratha periods were kept as entertainers and as symbols of royal power. The sam e is true for princely states of the more modern period of British imperialism. In an interview on the subject of princely patronage Shri Ram Sharma ji recounts his experiences to Banarsi Das Chaturvedi: I had the opportunity to stay with K ing Rukmangad Singh and I can say with complete honesty that the government of U ttar Pradesh has not done half of what this king has done for the art of wrestli ng. There is a small princely state in the district of Hardowi where Raja Rukman gad Singh received a privy purse from the government in the amount of 400,000 ru pees. The king would sit down with about thirty wrestlers and give them instruct ion every day. Each day he would spend between 150 and 200 rupees on them. . . . Every wrestler in India knew the Raja and thought of him as his guardian (Banar si Das Chaturvedi 1961: 102).

One of Maharaja Holkar of Indors wrestlers, Kasam Ali, is said to have broken the leg of a camel that kicked him. His wrestling janghiya briefs were so big that a normal man could fit his whole body through one leg hole. Tukojirao Holkars wre stler, Shiva Pahalwaan, broke up a fight between two raging bulls. As the story goes he sent one flying north and one flying south. Many remember when Shivajirao Holkar arranged a bout between Paridatta, the father of Gulam Kadar Pahalwaan, a nd Ahamed Mir Khan Pathan. After three hours of wrestling the bout was still tie d and the Maharaja called a draw. After the fight the wrestlers legs were so swol len that their janghiya briefs had to be cut from their thighs. There are countl ess other such anecdotes which are told and retold. At each telling the power of the king is remembered as a political manifestation of his wrestlers pugilistic valor. A similar situation obtains when the diet and exercise regime of a wrestl er is considered. The quantity, quality, and richness of a wrestlers diet reflect s directly on the status of the king. A wrestlers appetite was often said to be e qual to that of an elephant, and the kings strength was as great as his wrestlers appetites. The same holds true for exercise. A court wrestler who could drink fi ve liters of milk and do thousands of dands and bethaks in a day was symbolicall y demonstrating the extent of his kings power. Gama, the great wrestler of the fi rst quarter of this century, championed the position of Maharaja Jaswant Singh o f Jodhpur by doing more deep knee bends than any other wrestler from a field of four hundredand this when he was only ten years old (Ali 1984: 101). Later, when in the court of Maharaja Bhawani Singh, Gama was provided with a daily diet of a bout ten liters of milk, half a liter of ghi, a liter and a half of butter, and two kilograms of fruit. The body of the wrestler is held up by the king as an em blem of his rule. As the following examples clearly indicate, the wrestler embod ies the kings temporal power. Kasam Ali, the ninety-five-year-old disciple of Abj i Ustad, was a courtier of Maharaja Tukojirao. Even at this age he was tall and light skinned. He had a pleasant disposition and never stooped. I looked at him and the breath left my mouth: If these were the ruins of an old man, then the tow er was as strong as ever. . . . Wrestlers were the glory of their king. (Patodi 1 986b: 71) Brij Lal ustad, a lifelong brahmachari, a man of his word and a man wi th faith in god, asked his king, Shivaji, to permit him to wrestle a Punjabi wre stler who many other wrestlers had declined to take on. Surprised, the king aske d Brij Lal, Are you really going to wrestle this champion? Without batting an eye Brij Lal replied, Lord, who am I to wrestle, it is I in your name who challenge t his man. With that the king gave his permission for the bout to be fought (Patodi 1986c: 6566). Even though wrestlers were in some instances kept in other capacit ies (as was Kasam Ali, who worked in the kings munitions department), they were n ever called upon to work per se. As indicated by Ratan Patodi, wrestlers were sy mbols in a strict sense of the word.

Wrestlers had self-respect when India was a colonized country. The independent p rinces never called upon their wrestlers to do any thing which would undercut th eir self-respect. And along with self-respect, courtesy and modesty was ingraine d in them. Wrestlers considered it their duty to be honest and to shun any kind of doubletalk (1973b: 11). It was precisely because wrestlers already stood for th e ideological principles of a disciplined way of lifephysical strength, moral vir tue, honesty, respect, duty, and integritythat they served so well as political e mblems. Kings co-opted the terms of this ideology and glorified themselves by im plicitly advocating a wrestling way of life. Wrestling became the language of ro yal pomp and power. Whatever else patronage was, it served as a public dramatiza tion of wrestling as a way of life. The king who bestowed a prize on his champio n wrestlergold and silver, jeweled necklaces, crowns, cash, elephants, titles, an d many other thingsimplicitly advocated chastity and the attendant system of disc iplined action which was part of the whole regime. The wrestler became the arche typal citizen of the royal state. This aspect of patronage is perhaps best exemp lified by Bhawanrao Pant, the raja of Aundh. Inspired by Balasaheb Mirajkar, raj a of Miraj, Bhawanrao popularized and codified surya namaskar, a system of exerc ise which synthesizes many aspects of the wrestling ethos. The raja made surya n amaskar exercises mandatory in the schools under his control (Mujumdar 1950: iii ). He thus symbolically transposed his power onto the physique of his subjects. Conversely, he saw his estate as drawing power from the collective health of his people. Although there is very little information to go on, it seems that earli er kings of the medieval periodthe Yadavas and Somesvara, in particularalso felt c ompelled to turn their subjects into disciplined wrestlers. In establishing hund reds of gymnasia throughout Maharashtra it seems that Shivaji was also using wre stling patronage as a model for the public administration of a broad-based progr am of physical education. The rajas of Aundh and Miraj were not the only royal p atrons of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. The Maharaja of Bar oda, raja of Kolhapur, a number of the rajas of Indor, and the rajas of Patiala, Jodhpur, and Datiya were all strong supporters of wrestling as a way of life. T hey are regarded by contemporary wrestlers as the guardians of an honored tradit ion. According to contemporary wrestlers, the art of wrestling would have died o ut completely had it not been for royal patronage. What they mean by this is not so much that wrestling needed royal financing, but that it needed public royal acclaim. It needed to be drawn out of the village akhaaraa and writ large on the royal stage. Left to its own devices, one might say, wrestling would have flour ished only as a popular sport and as a marginalized and somewhat esoteric way of life. Royal patronage served to turn a popular sport into a political discourse with nascent nationalistic undertones. Although the precise history of this dev elopment has not yet been fully researched, its implications for contemporary na tionalism will be examined in a later chapter.

One context in which wrestling became associated with nationalistic ideals was d uring the struggle for independence in the early part of this century. The story of Gama is a dramatic case in point. In 1910, two years before he became the co urt wrestler of the Maharaja of Patiala, and as Indias struggle against British i mperialism gained momentum, Gama was sent to London to fight in the John Bull Wo rld Championship Competition. Gama and his brother, along with two other wrestle rs, were sponsored by Sarat Kumar Mitra, a Bengali millionaire. Unfortunately, G ama was too short to gain official status as a contestant. However, a local thea ter offered Gama 250 pounds sterling a week to take part in some sideshow bouts. From this unofficial venue Gama challenged any of the worldclass London wrestle rs to a bout. To whomever could last five minutes Gama promised to pay five poun ds. On the first day Gama dispatched three English challengers in short order. T he next day he took on another twelve with equal success. He thus gained access to the official tournament where he was pitted against the world champion Zbyszk o. Though much smaller in size, Gama fought Zbyszko for three hours and clearly had the upper hand when the contest ended for the day. Zbyszko failed to show up the following day to continue the bout and Gama was declared the world champion . The symbolic implications of Gamas rout of Englands best wrestlers in the very s eat of imperial power were not lost on the subjugated Indian public. Popular acc ounts have it that there was not a single newspaper in Hindi or Urdu that did no t herald the news of Indias triumph. In 1928, after sixteen years in the Maharaja of Patialas court, Gama again challenged Zbyszko. This bout was fought in Patial a at the height of the nationalist struggle. Though Zbyszko was not British, the bout was nevertheless a symbolic reenactment of Gamas first victory. Zbyszko was defeated in two and a half seconds in front of a crowd of over forty thousand s pectators who had come from all over the country to witness the fight. Ratan Pat odi recounts that the arena erupted in one voice, shouting India has won! India h as won! After the victory the Maharaja embraced Gama, took the pearl necklace he was wearing, and placed it around the champions neck. A parade was arranged and G ama rode on the kings elephant holding in his arms a silver mace made specially f or the occasion. So that Gamas regal achievement would not be forgotten, the king gave him a whole village and an annual stipend of 6,000 rupees (Patodi 1984: 35 ). One can well imagine the prestige that the maharaja of Patiala derived from t his contest. As the wrestling euphemism for defeat goes, the maharaja had shown t he world the sky by pinning down an emblem of imperialism. Gama and his patron th e maharaja came to symbolize the possibility of selfdetermination and independen ce. While it is true that a wrestler reflects the power of his patron king, it i s also true that a king must be equal to the status of his wrestlers. In this re gard a popular adage is apropos: A subject is only as good as his king. Wrestlers sometimes reacted against their patron if they thought he was compromising their own status. Once while watching a wrestling bout, Maharaja Tukojirao Holkar dec ided that he wanted

to pit his wrestler Bare Bhaiya against Kyam Pahalwaan of Lahore. This was arran ged, and Bare Bhaiya came into the arena shouting the praise of his sponsor and patron the Maharaja. Entering the pit he applied a jhar move on Kyam who fell flat on his back. Bowing to the Maharaja and the people who had come to watch, Bare Bhaiya left the arena. Kyam returned to Lahore and his patron Maharaja was not p leased with his performance and told him to go and fight Bare Bhaiya again. Kyam , a wrestler of self-respect, answered his king saying: I am a wrestler not a coc k that can be fought at will. The king took offense and ordered that Kyams stipend be stopped. Hearing this Kyam replied: Rescind it if you wish, for it is a miser ly amount upon which no one can wrestle. Wrestling runs on a silver grind stone and on the amount you give me I can only feed grain to the pigeons. In the end Ky am did not have to fight again and his stipend was renewed (Patodi 1973b: 1112). There is a degree of tension in the relationship between a wrestler and his roya l patron. Each has a great deal riding on the image the other projects. Moreover , there is the issue of power and control. As the above examples have shown, wre stlers put a great deal of stress on self-respect. Among other things, self-resp ect means self-determination and an unwillingness to subject oneself to any auth ority. Patronage requires a degree of subjugation. Wrestlers are uncomfortable w ith the obligations which ensue from sponsorship. For their part, kings are thre atened by the persona of a powerful wrestler. Physical strength, self-respect, h onesty, faith, and moral uprightness manifest in a wrestler can sometimes outshi ne the kings glory. The emblem can become too perfect, and, in a sense, surpass t hat which it is meant to represent. A king whose power and authority does not ma tch up to his wrestlers standards becomes a parody of his own pomp. In fact, a ki ng is never in complete control of the image his wrestlers project. For although a wrestler stands for the king, a wrestler also stands for himself. The king an d wrestler compete for control over the meaning of such things as strength and m orality. Does the kings authority serve to advance the wrestlers status or does th e wrestlers status serve to reflect the kings power? This drama is played out in t he following story. Before independence there were numerous small princely state s. Under the patronage of the kings and princes of these states, Indian wrestlin g flourished. Wherever the kings were skilled in matters of state they were also concerned with fitness and were often no less skilled than many of their wrestl ers. During the reign of Maharaja Khanderao in the princely state of Baroda, the re were some three hundred wrestlers in the royal court. Most of these wrestlers were Punjabis, Chaubes, or Jethis.

One day Maharaja Khanderao called a special darbar [assembly] of his court. The reason for calling the darbar was Ramju Pahalwaans uncontested success in the Ind ian wrestling akhaaraas. Ramju was a Punjabi wrestler under the patronage of Kha nderao and had been defeating one wrestler after another. Maharaja Khanderao, be ing a patron of Indian wrestling, was concerned that there did not seem to be an y counter moves to apply against Ramjus technique. This was the issue for which t he darbar had been called, and all of the court wrestlers were present. The Maha raja himself was seated on a high throne and appeared as a great sage of wrestli ng. His strong body and rippling muscles could be seen beneath his silken robes. As the darbar came to order, the Maharaja had only to think about Ramju and the wrestler leapt like a leopard onto the dais and stood humbly beside the throne of his patron. The Maharaja said to him, Ramju, you have been undefeated in every akhaaraa where you have wrestled and many of those you have defeated have renou nced wrestling on your account. Many have been subdued by self-doubt. For those wrestlers who have, on your account, removed their langot and janghiya [i.e., gi ven up wrestling] I say, It is easier for you, Ramju, to defeat a wrestler of equ al strength and skill than it is for a wrestler obsessed with sexual passion to lose. This is true, and to prove it I challenge you to a wrestling match. Hearing this announcement the whole court was surprised. In order to protect the Kings ho nor many of the court wrestlers said, let me fight first with Ramju, my lord. But the king said, It will take you a long time to be worthy and skilled enough to fi ght Ramju. Hearing all of this Ramju spoke, my lord, I am your humble servant. You are my patron. What means do I, a poor man, have that I can match my skill with yours? In reply to this the Maharaja said, as one versed and experienced in athl etics, wrestling is an art, and it has nothing to do with wealth and status. The bout will be held one month from now. Practice hard and spare no expense. The Mah araja instructed the accountant to spend as much as necessary on Ramjus training and diet. Exactly one month later the Maharaja and Ramju, surrounded by courtier s and advisors, took their places in the arena which was bedecked with rose peta ls and scented with perfume. Both wrestlers set upon one another like two rogue elephants bent on destruction. The Maharaja was matching Ramjus technique with hi s own well-crafted skill. Every move was broken quickly and with great flourish. After one hour neither wrestler had the upper hand. The Maharaja then began to have

doubts as to whether Ramju was giving his full effort and asked him to swear by god and the milk he had drunk from his mothers breast that he was putting out 100 percent. Hearing this, Ramju felt a surge of energy, applied a bagal-dubba, and f orced the king down on his knees. But the king again stood up and the match went on like this for another hour. The Maharaja then said, Ramju, we could go on lik e this for three days and you could still not pin me, but now I can no longer to lerate the smell of your sweat. Let me go and I will call you the winner. So Ramj u let the Maharaja go and stood up, bowing slightly and folding his hands before the king, saying, Lord, I am your servant. I am the one who has lost. Who am I t o think that I was a match for you. I only followed your instructions. In reply t he Maharaja said, Ask whatever you wish as a prize. What you have given me is pri celess and what you have taught me today is beyond compare. What you have given me is greater even than my family can give. Now, who could argue with a king? Ram ju had been given an order, and there was nothing for it but to name his prize. W hatever is your wish, cried Ramju, but if you insist, it is your humble servants re quest that if you grant me the crown you are wearing I would be most honored. Har dly had Ramju finished speaking when the king removed his crown and some 25,000 rupees worth of jewels and gave them to his court wrestler. About the rest of Ra mjus life it is only necessary to know one thing. When Ramju was at the zenith of his career he went one day to the Maharaja and said, Lord, my body is splitting because I can no longer wrestle enough to get tired. Hearing this, the Maharaja o rdered that two glass mirrors in the shape of hands be fixed into the wall of th e akhaaraa. He told Ramju, After your daily practice and exercise regime place yo ur hands on the glass mirrors and push until you are tired. Ramju did as he was t old (Patodi 1986b: 5356). Ratan Patodi concludes his account of this story as fol lows: Swami Baldev Misra told me that he went to Lal Akhaaraa in Baroda and saw for himself the glass mirror hands. With his great strength Ramju had turned the mirror hands upside down (ibid). There are a number of interesting points which this story brings to light. The contest between the king and his court wrestler is a metaphor for the struggle between royal

patronage and a wrestlers own self-definition. The struggle is not of epic propor tions. It is a subtle issue of identity: of who represents whom. In the contest the struggle is not definitively resolved; the king gives up. There is a symboli c resolution, however, insofar as Ramju is invested with political power manifes t in the kings crown. Conversely, the king himself is recognized as an accomplish ed wrestler. Their roles are reversed and thus the tension between physical and political strength is depicted in sharp relief through juxtaposition. One readin g of this story would be that the king felt threatened by Ramjus success. He felt it necessary to put Ramju in his proper place. Having not actually defeated the king, Ramju nevertheless comes out the winner. Thus he may keep the crown as a votive symbol of status without power. The bout thus serves to enhance and under score Ramjus purely symbolic role. In the symbolism of the glass-mirror hands, Ra mju must, in effect, wrestle with his own reflection. While in the akhaaraa he i s purely a self-referential figure, a symbol of himself, a sign of pure strength and skill that mirrors a way of life turned in on itself. By fixing the mirrors into the akhaaraa wall, the king is able to harness an ideology of physical, mo ral, and psychological strength. In the akhaaraa Ramjus incomparable strength is spent, impotently, on itself. Only the king can translate this energized conundr um into a reflection of political prestige. Ramjus way of life becomes glorified only in the radiance of his patrons royal status. As a way of life wrestling does not necessarily require royal patronage, but it does require translation and in terpretation. Restricted to the isolated world of the akhaaraa, symbols of stren gth and virtue only refer back to a restricted and restricting set of valueschast ity, devotion, and moral duty. In this self-referential arena the wrestler can o nly be a good wrestler and not a hero of royal proportions. From the akhaaraa a wrestler speaks to a small audience. From beside his patrons throne, the size of his thigh and all that it is known to mean, for instance, take on regal dimensio ns. At issue in the relationship between wrestler and patron is control over pub lic identity. By and large, the public image of the wrestler belongs to the king . This is made clear in the following example where the story is told of one wre stler who sought to reappropriate his own body and public self-image. An artist always follows his own mind, and Ramlal Pahalwaan suffered from being particular ly independent and strong willed. Maharaja Tukojirao was constantly upset with h im. Why was this? It was his manner. God had out done himself when he made Ramla l. To the last detail he was a tall and beautiful youth. Everyday he would wear a clean, freshly washed head cloth and dhoti [loincloth]. It was his habit to de corate his hands and feet with mehandi [vegetable dye] and place on his forehead a small, neat bindi [auspicious mark]. He always went out with a pan in his mou th. He never came out into his house compound unannounced; but if called upon by guests, he would put on perfume and come out with

affected drama and pomp. The Maharaja was certainly concerned that Ramlal accoun t for himself. But Ramlal never felt that his actions needed justification (Pato di 1986c: 64). Being strong-willed, Ramlal wanted to stand for himself. Through his body he sought to give his own public interpretation of his identity as a wr estler. Although Ramlal epitomizes the tensions between patron and wrestler, his personality is anomalous and out of character with most other wrestlers. The ma jority of wrestlers, like Ramju of Baroda and Gama of Patiala, were willing simp ly to stand for power and prestige rather than affect it themselves. The passing of royal patrons is lamented by every wrestler with whom I spoke. They were see n as the guardians of a way of life that would otherwise have died out as a mute and marginalized victim of modernism. The financial backing that rajas and maha rajas provided is significant. However, patrons are remembered more for having c ast wrestling in a positive light by giving it public and prestigious acclaim. A s heir to the legacy of royal patronage the current national government is criti cized by many wrestlers on precisely this point. In the court of kings, wrestlin g was a royal art; under the current government it is not accorded a comparable national status. Government Patronage Whereas royal patronage is glorified and i ts passing lamented, current government sponsorship of wrestling is loudly and p ublicly criticized for being inadequate. I asked Atma Ram of Akhaaraa Ram Singh about government support, and he voiced the general consensus saying, Yes, the go vernment supports us; and with its support we are dying. A large number of the ar ticles on wrestling which appear in the Indian press chastise the government for having done nothing to support akhaaraas (Deshmukh 1979: 1; Kaushik 1979: 4; Ma heshwar 1981: 9; K. P. Roy 1967; D. Singh 1988; Statesman 1970: 3; Swarajya 1973 : 30). What wrestlers are critical of, however, is not necessarily the instituti onalized structure of patronage and support in modern India. Many wrestlers cont rast government sponsorship of Western sportsparticularly cricketwith the general lack of support given to Indian wrestling. To be fair, however, it should be not ed that there is an Indian Style Wrestling Association based in Delhi (Ali 1984: 1213), and an annual Indian Style National Championship, Bharat Kesri, is sponso red by the Indian Wrestling Federation. The state government of Maharashtra, thr ough the auspices of the Maharashtra Wrestling Association, has established at l east two permanent akhaaraas in the Kolhapur area (Bhalekar 1978: 10). Neverthel ess, the prevailing attitude among wrestlers in Delhi, Roorkee, Dehra Dun, and B anaras is that the government has turned its back on their way of life. Wrestler s are dissatisfied with the apathetic attitude and outright ignorance of the gov ernment regarding what they feel is most significant about wrestling, namely its ethical ideals and moral virtues, its character and the pride and self-respect it fosters. Wrestlers are

also critical of the extent to which the sport has been corrupted by political i nfluence. In fact there is a whole genre of essay in the popular literature which examines and criticizes the governments intrusive and destructive role in wrestli ng (Koshal 19721973; Munna 1979, 1982; Patodi 1972; Sangar 1982; K. P. Singh 1983 ). Government support for wrestling is seen from two perspectives. On the one ha nd is the formal institutionalized structure of patronage. Government department s and nationalized services have a sports quota in their employment roster and are required to hire a percentage of qualified athletes to fill these positions. Th e national government, along with state administrations, has established a numbe r of sports hostels where qualified young wrestlers can, with the right connection s, go for three years of training and education. In the state of Uttar Pradesh, the Meerut and Bareilly hostels are particularly well known for their curricular focus on wrestling. Western-style competitive wrestling is organized under the authority of the Delhi-based Indian Wrestling Federation, made up of representat ives from a network of sixteen state branches. All national and international to urnaments are organized through the aegis of this body. Patronage from the India n Wrestling Federation is directed toward wrestlers qualified for national and i nternational competition. The emphasis is on Western freestyle wrestling done on mats, and not Indian-style wrestling per se. Nevertheless, there is some overla p between the two forms insofar as Western-style wrestlers usually have a reputa tion as Indian-style champions as well. The Indian/Western style distinction is more a matter of formal contrast than an exclusive dichotomy as such. In any cas e, I will restrict my comments to the type of institutionalized government patro nage which Indian style wrestlers actually receive or feel they should receive. I am not interested in questions concerning the nationalization and internationa lization of wrestling as a sport. Nationalized Services and Government Boards Ma ny of the basic services in India are nationalized and organized as separate dep artments with regional and municipal jurisdiction. The post and telegraph, water , and electricity boards are the largest of these departments. The National Rail way is a similar institution and provides employment for tens of thousands of pe ople. The armed services are organized on a large, national scale and are, of co urse, directly affiliated with government. Each state of the republic has a poli ce force. The PAC (Police Armed Constabulary) is organized on a national level. The State Bank of India is the largest of the nationalized financial institution s and has a network of offices throughout the country. All of these institutions are monolithic in size and provide employment for hundreds of thousands of peop le. Each division or subdivision of these branches recruits and hires athletes t o fill their sports quota. As a result local railway offices, police precincts, ba nks, and post offices hire wrestlers as checking clerks, constables, filing cler ks, and postmen. In some cases branch offices build akhaaraas for their locally hired wrestlers, but more often than not

wrestlers who work for a branch of the government exercise and train in their ow n gurus personal akhaaraa. Wrestlers compare these government institutions to the kings and princes of preindependence India. The railway and police in particula r, but also the water and electricity boards and State Bank of India, sponsor a number of wrestlers who have proven themselves in national competition. In Banar as, for instance, Sita Ram Yadav, Banarsi Pande, Bishambar Singh, Jharkhande Rai , Krishna Kumar Singh, and Ashok have all been national champions in their weigh t class and work for the Diesel Locomotive Works or other railway offices. Sita Ram Yadav and Bishambar have wrestled in international competitions, and Banarsi Pande has taken part as an international referee. Bhaiya Lal, a national-level wrestler, is sponsored by the State Bank of India, where he works as a clerk. Th e well-known and respected Govardan Das Malhotra, one-time national referee, is also employed by the state bank. In many ways he personifies the role of the ban k as patron. Although the government boards and the nationalized services are co ncerned with sponsoring wrestlers, they are not particularly interested in wrest ling as a way of life. On account of this it is not surprising that many of the wrestlers who are employed by the railway board or state bank do not feel any gr eat affinity towards their sponsors. The relationship is regarded in a very util itarian light. Wrestlers feel no great pride in being wards of the state, but th ey are glad to have an income and a secure status. They turn to their guru and a khaaraa, however, when identifying themselves as Indian wrestlers. The patronage of the state varies in significant ways from the patronage of kings and princes . Primarily, wrestlers are not kept strictly as symbols. They are employed and a re required to work. In the armed services this arrangement is compatible since a recruit has no assigned task other than what he is ordered to do. He is, in ef fect, recruited as a wrestler. In the railway and state bank, however, wrestlers must work as clerks, baggage inspectors, and draftsman. In the post and telegra ph office they must sort mail or learn some other skill. Wrestlers in the police force are expected to direct traffic or patrol their assigned post. Many of the wrestlers with whom I spoke did not take their work very seriously, for it conf licted with their vocation of wrestling. Sita Ram Yadav pointed out the paradox, saying that wrestlers are recruited to win championships but then are told to w ork seven or eight hours a day. It is impossible to practice and train given suc h a situation. Another wellknown wrestler complained that he spent his time sitt ing behind a desk when, as he put it, I was born to live in the akhaaraa. Senior w restlers take a cavalier attitude towards their sponsoring institutions. Whether or not they actually do what they say is not clear, but many claim that they go to work only if they feel so inclined. The railway and the armed services arran ge annual training camps, and wrestlers often take an extended leave of absence from their work to attend. The camps provide effective training for national com petitions and for international tours, but they do not foster ideals

and values essential to wrestling as a way of life. One wrestler expressed conce rn over the increasing number of men who were now bringing their wives and famil ies to the training camps. To his way of thinking this was antithetical to the m ind set required of a selfcontrolled wrestler. Generally speaking, the railway b oard and the other service branches see wrestling as just another sport. As such it is a sport cut in a very Western mold. Wrestlers are hired for their individ ual prowess rather than for the ideals they represent. For the most part an Indi an wrestler who is hired by the railway or state bank is stripped of his unique identity and reclothed as a skilled but otherwise regular employee of the state. In this guise wrestlers no longer stand for a way of life but for a nationalize d sport. To be sure, kings wanted the best wrestlers to be in their service, but they embraced the whole regime and did not extract the wrestler, as a mere athl ete, from the important context of his whole way of life. Although wrestlers glo rify royal patronage, they recognize that in many instances old wrestlers were u nceremoniously put to pasture. The unfortunate example of the great Gama is a ca se in point. Still the world champion, he died an all-but-forgotten, poor, sick ma n (Rajput 1960). In some cases rajas and maharajas gave their retiring wrestlers small land grants and stipends, but for the most part there was no established precedent for giving a pension to a retired wrestler. A wrestlers career is short lived. By the time he is thirty-five, or forty at the very latest, he is no lon ger competitive. Severance is an important consideration for someone who has spe nt his whole life wrestling. Government service is very good in this respect and the senior wrestlers who no longer compete are comfortable and secure in their tenured status. The number of wrestlers who are sponsored by the various branche s of government service is insignificant when compared to the total number of wr estlers in India who have no formal sponsorship at all. It is unlikely, however, that even the rajas, maharajas, and wealthy landlords sponsored a majority of a ll wrestlers. One had to be good to be a court wrestler, and most practitioners of the art never earned a rank of this order. Significantly, even those without sponsorship idealize the relationship of a patron and his wrestler. Sponsorship is, therefore, more important as a symbolic relationship than as a financial and economic one. The fact that Govardan Das Malhotra was able to negotiate a state stipend of 150 rupees per month for two old Banaras wrestlers is paltry on a fi nancial scale, and characteristic, wrestlers tell me, of the bureaucratic somers aults which have to be performed in order to squeeze out a bare minimum of prest ige. Still, the stipend was a powerful, if muted, message of validation. On the whole, government sponsorship is not charged with the same significance as royal patronage. The railway and state bank do not have tangible prestige or politica l power in the same way as did wealthy kings. In state institutions there is no figurehead, no pomp, and there are few if any rituals of status for the wrestler to emblazon with his character. What made wrestlers and kings compatible was th e symbolic parallel between royal power and physical-cum-moral strength. There i s no such parallel between wrestlers and the

modern state apparatus. The nationalized services are vast bureaucracies with wh ich wrestlers cannot identify. On the state roster a wrestler is a grappler and an athlete. Nothing more and nothing less. Contrast the biographical profile of a state wrestler with that of a court wrestler like Ramju. Randhawa Singh (Punja b), featherweight: Born on February 2, 1945, Randhawa hails from Lachara village , District Muzzafarnagar, and is at present a Sub-Inspector of Police in Punjab. His first big achievement was the National Championships in 1965 in Kolhapur, w hen he was declared champion of his weight class. He repeated his performance in 1966 (D. P. Chand 1980). The story is the same for other well-known champions s uch as Bishambar of the railway and Bhim Singh of the armed services. Their live s are a litany of bouts and awards, and their bodies are reduced to the stark nu mbers of dates and weight-class identification. Their only identity is their suc cess. Epic, apocryphal tales of great strength and superhuman achievement are st rikingly absent from the state wrestlers portrait. Although most government spons orship is utilitarian and deals with wrestling strictly as a sport and with wres tlers as simply athletes, there are some notable exceptions. Individuals within the state apparatus who have a personal interest in wrestling as a way of life h ave succeeded in taking on the role of moral patron. Govardan Das Malhotra recei ved his training as a wrestling referee from the National Institute of Sports in Patiala in 1963. Since then he had coached international teams and managed tour naments in Kabul and Teheran. Malhotra is active in the state bank trying to rec ruit young wrestlers for sponsorship. He has also helped organize local bouts in the Banaras area. Three things mark Malhotra from other modern patrons of wrest ling. First, he is conscious of the need to preserve interest and provide suppor t for Indian wrestling as a way of life. Second, he has written numerous short l ife sketches of famous wrestlers so as to illustrate the value of Indian wrestli ng as an important national heritage (Malhotra 1981: 1796). Third, he has conscio usly removed himself from what he refers to as the gross politics of modern wres tling where influence is everything and skill, ability, and character count for very little. Like Malhotra, Gupteshwar Misra has worked to preserve the traditio n of Indian wrestling. Though a national level freestyle wrestler himself, and t rained as a referee in Paris, Misra has remained committed to the training metho ds and lifestyle principles of Indian wrestling. Misra is directly responsible f or the national success of most Banaras district wrestlers. He has inspired many through example. In his prime he would regularly do 2,500 bethaks and 2,000 dan ds, run four miles, and wrestle for an hour every day. He would then drink a lit er of milk and a quarter-liter of ghi and eat half a kilo of almonds

and a dozen oranges. Misra has helped organize teams for the railway, the police , and Banaras Hindu University. Malhotra, Misra and a number of others of equal statureParasnath Sharma, Ram Narian Sarien, and Bishambar Singh, to name but thre eare important patrons of Indian wrestling. Their best intentions are, however, n ot fully realized. Whatever effort these men make to hold up wrestling as a symb ol of the state, they do not, by themselves, have a public image of powerful pat ronage. They cannot quite pull it off. In his capacity as a relatively high-rank employee, Malhotra certainly represents the stature of the state bank. But he d oes not represent the banks financial power in the same way that a raja represent ed absolute authority and temporal power. He does not embody the governments inta ngible power any more than does Bishambar Singh personify the power behind the r ailway bureaucracy. Neither man is able to effect royal pomp and circumstance. U nlike kings, modern state officials are unable to decorate akhaaraas with palm f ronds, flowers, and rose petals, or saturate the earth of wrestling pits with bu ckets of oil and turmeric paste. Neither can they sprinkle their wrestlers bodies with expensive perfume. They are unable properly to champion the cause of wrest ling, for they do not represent the right kind of power, wealth or authority. Th e Birla Mill Vyayamshala in Old Delhi, under the tutelage of Guru Hanuman, is pe rhaps the only wrestling akhaaraa in India today that has the kind of sponsorshi p which royal patrons provided. While the circumstances of this akhaaraa are uni que, it is representative of the kind of patronage which wrestlers envision for their way of life. The Birlas are, in effect, kings of free enterprise in the re public of India. They are one of the wealthiest and most powerful families in th e country. Jugal Kishor Birla, a contemporary of Mahatma Gandhi and financial ba cker of the Freedom Movement, donated money for the construction of an akhaaraa in 1928 and established Guru Hanuman as its manager. The akhaaraa is affiliated with one of the Birla cloth mills from which it takes its name. There is no clea r indication of the financial arrangement between Birla Enterprises and the akha araa. Some people have told me that all of the wrestlers therenumbering in the hu ndreds, but the exact figure is vagueare paid a regular monthly stipend. Room and board is available at the akhaaraa for some wrestlers, but many others come for practice and live outside the complex. Through the person of Murlighar Dalmiya, Birla Enterprises pay for the akhaaraas upkeep and for new construction and impr ovements. There is an earthen pit as well as a Western-style rubber mat purchased in 1979. It is likely that the Birlas also pay for the travel and training expen ses of the akhaaraas many national and international wrestling champions. A story is told which exemplifies the relationship between the akhaaraa, Guru Hanuman, and Birla Enterprises. A young wrestler had come to Delhi from Maharashtra in or der to take part in a wrestling tournament. Unfortunately he ran out of money an d was unable to purchase a railway ticket for the return journey. Knowing one of the wrestlers at the Birla Mill Vyayamshala, he went there to seek help. At the akhaaraa he was well taken care of.

Guru Hanuman had one of his wards prepare a glass of almond tonic for the Mahara shtrian wrestler. He then wrote a note which authorized the withdrawal of fifty rupees from the mills accounting office. This he gave to the Maharashtrian wrestl er, who was put up for the night by one of the mill wrestlers with whom he was a cquainted. The part of the story which is particularly emotive for most wrestler s is Guru Hanumans apparent ability to draw freely from the ample coffers of his industrial patron. While the financial outlay for the akhaaraa is, no doubt, con siderable200,000 rupees were spent on a foreign wrestling matthere is much more to Birla patronage than money. Guru Hanuman and his wardsSuresh, Ashok, Satpal, Ved Prakash, and many others bask in the light of an industrial giant. Their success matches the financial success of Birla free enterprise. Physical strength and s kill reflects well on wealth and prestige, and wealth gives stature to a traditio nal way of life in modern India. Guru Hanuman and the numerous national champions that he has produced are more than just successful wrestlers, for they stand fo r something larger than themselves and on the shoulders of the likes of Ghaneshy amdas Birla, who was not only one of the wealthiest men in India in the first ha lf of this century but was also a man who awoke three hours before dawn, exercis ed, ate a vegetarian diet, and religiously read the scriptures and had faith in god (Ramakrishnan 1986). Like many of the best-known royal patrons, Ghaneshyamda s Birla was himself a practitioner of what he patronized. By sponsoring an akhaa raa, the Birlas are not just filling a sports quota, they are making a public st atement about specific ideals and values. For them the Birla Mill Vyayamshala is as much a statement about independence and national identity as was their suppo rt for Gandhi and the freedom struggle. Just as kings invited the public to see in their wrestlers an image of royal authority and power, so the Birlas invite t he public to see in the person of Guru Hanuman and his akhaaraa the benevolence of an industrial giant supporting the hope of the nation. Although the Birla Mil l Vyayamshala is a powerful example in its own right, it is unique. Of all the a khaaraas in India it is the only one with a powerful patron who is, ironically, a private industrialist. It is held up as a model for others to follow and as a vision of what the state ought to provide so that the wrestlers can get on with the task of disciplining their bodies. 5. The Discipline of the Wrestlers Body In the dream of rational control over corporeal existence, the picture looms of gr owing medicalization and technology to such an extent that the body is controlle d, not by nature this time, but by our own inventions. When thousands of people stop to look at a famous wrestler, then one may say that the character of the wr estler calls out; it beckons. So what is this character? A wrestler has a majest ic body. He has strength. He has stamina, skill, experience, and, if he is educa ted

and well read, then he has knowledge and wisdom. He has humility and is well man nered. He is skilled . . . and who knows what all else. Any number of these trai ts define his character, and as long as they are maintained they will be the rea son for the wrestlers fame. But most of all a wrestlers character is defined by hi s strength. . . . Character is fostered by strength and, in turn, strength is th e aura of character. A wrestler builds his character through his own efforts; he reaps what he sows. Celibacy is the paramount means by which a wrestler establi shes his character. He is a disciple of celibacy. Introduction In this chapter I will outline in detail the regimens of exercise, diet, and self-control that structure the wrestlers body. Careful attention will be given to the precise mechanics of physical training which develop and shape t he individual body in terms of somatic ideals. Before embarking on this project, however, I must consider the nature of the relationship of the individual body to these ideals. The notion of a fit and healthy body being an ideological const ruct is a fairly common theme in discourses of nationalism and power (Gallagher 1986; Jennifer Hargreaves 1982; John Hargreaves 1986; Hoberman 1984). But while the equation is simple to state, the problem is, in fact, more complex. As soon as a healthy body is made to shoulder the burden of certain ideals it also becom es subjected to a microphysics of domination and control. Technologies intrude i nto the body and mold perceptions of health, fitness, sexuality, and aesthetic b eauty. These covert technologies present themselves in many instances as emancip atory strategies whereby the individual can free himself or herself from the mun dane fact of mere biology. With specific reference to the athletic body, De Wach ter points out that in trying to escape from the vagaries of naturesickness and a gingwe have subjected ourselves to a numbing array of techniques. Far from freein g the body we have simply subjected it to a different kind of determinism (1988: 123). Exercise and training produce an impression of dynamism, differentiation, and freedom but in fact fitness is simply another way of controlling the body. Th is is what Heinila (1982) has termed the nightmare of totalization, wherein fitnes s manifests itself as a mode of domination acting through progressively more det ailed schemes of physical regimentation (in De Wachter 1988). Exercise and healt h regimens dominate and control individual bodies in the same instance that they create an illusion of self-motivated physical liberation (Crawford 1985; Zola 1 972). The illusion is two-dimensional: that we have somehow superseded the natur al mandate of our biological bodies, and that the regimens we adopt are emancipa tory and self-inflicted rather than ideologically prescribed. The mechanics of t his premise rest on a tacit acceptance of the Cartesian mind/body duality. Becau se the body is regarded as a mere flesh and blood object, it is conceived of as a lifeless thing which can be molded. It can be disciplined, sacrificed, branded , tattooed, reproportioned, and developed through exercise. The mind (disembodie d thought) is always regarded as the master of this game of

control. In other words, we attribute cultural value to certain physical feature s, and we regard these values as taken-for-granted natural facts of life. Broad sh oulders, for instance, are regarded as a natural feature of the male physique. W hile certain dimensions of physique are regarded as natural, others are regarded as inherently mutableweight and body fat, for instanceand therefore subordinate t o aesthetic, political, moral, and religious principles. Conversely, in the logi c of Cartesian dualism, that which is physical is somehow regarded as more real and more elemental. Health, for example, is thought of as a purely physical cond ition, and illness as a purely biomedical referent. While the mind is accorded a position of supreme power in this scheme of human naturethe source of thought, l ogic, disposition, and emotionit is the body which is regarded as basic to real l ife: a flesh and blood existence in the here and now. Both mind and bodyperhaps b ecause they are radically dissociated from one another in Western thoughtare subj ected to external controls. The body is constrained by biological nature and the mind by history and the cultural construction of reality. Significantly, the mi nd also molds the body. But mind in this sense is not the individual mind of fre e will and individuality; it is the mind of ideology and collective consciousnes s. In the Cartesian formula, ideological thought is associated with the mind. Th e body is but an instrumental object of secondary significance, a purely depende nt variable. By implication the body is always subject to control and can never serve as an autonomous agent through which ideas develop and change. In Hindu ph ilosophy the mind and the body are intrinsically linked to one another (cf. Staa l 19831984; Zarrilli 1989). There is no sense of simple duality. In yoga, for ins tance, it is pointless to try to define where physical exercise ends and mental meditation begins. If one considers Gandhis adherence to yogic principles it is i ndeed difficult to draw any line between the physical, the mental, and the polit ical. The implications are significant. If exercise and regimens of fitness mani fest themselves as ways of controlling the individual body, then in Hindu India one cannot have a disciplined body without also having a disciplined mind. In th e context of Hindu schemes of discipline it is impossible completely to objectif y the body. The end result of regimentation and disciplined exercise in India is therefore quite different from its Western counterpart. Rather than a nightmare of totalization where the body is subjected to a refined and detailed biomechanic s of health and fitness, in India one has a situation where discipline endows th e body/mind with a heightened sense of subjective experience and personal selfaw areness. This is not to say that in India the individual experiences discipline as personal emancipation. In India, however, discipline is not simply manifest a s an objectification of the body but equally as a subjectification of the self. This point may be elaborated and clarified through an example. In American physi cal education and sport, strength is a purely physical phenomenon. It can be mea sured in objective terms: body mass, arm size, muscle-to-fat ratio, heart rate, weightlifting ability, and so forth. As such, strength is something that can be developed as

purely somatic and as quantifiable and calibrated. While strength is also manife st as a physical attribute in India, it is, more significantly, linked to such i neffable cultural values as duty, devotion, and morality. It is neither purely s omatic nor strictly quantifiable. A wrestler cannot be strong if he does not fol low his gurus mandate. He cannot be strong and indulge in sensual pleasure. Stren gth is manifest not only in the size of his arm but also in the sparkle of his e ye and the luster of his skin, symbols that indicate spirituality, devotion, and moral control. In a situation of mind/body synthesis such as this it is impossi ble to turn the body into a mere flesh and blood instrument molded to the image of some abstract ideological construct. Strength cannot be objectified from mora l duty or spiritual devotion. The regimens of health and exercise practiced in I ndiayoga, vyayam, dieteticsexert control over the body not only through a physical mechanics of muscular training and organic chemistry but also through a discipl ined regimentation of what we would call the subjective mind. As a result, disci pline in India manifests itself not in the objectification of impersonal bodies, but in the complete demarcation of the person as a thinking, feeling, and actin g microcosm of ideological values. In India a persons individuality is constructe d through the development of his or her body. In the West disembodied individual ity is imposed onto a generic biological human form: The steel [of the machines and tools which bodybuilders use] depersonalizes. . . . Its homogeneity drives o ut the principles of individuality in the bodies that devote themselves to it. I t does away with eccentricitiesthe dry and irritable skin, the concave faint-hear ted chest, the indolent stomach. . . . On his/her contours, the bodybuilder watc hes emerging not the eccentricities his tastes and vices leave in his carnal sub stance, but the lines of force of the generic human animal (Lingis 1988: 134135). The physical training associated with wrestling is anything but depersonalized. Nor does the wrestler emerge, through exercise, as a generic man on a larger, s tronger scale (except, as we shall see, in the synoptic arena of the tournament) . The disciplinary regimens associated with wrestling produce a person charged w ith a heightened sense of selfawareness and moral duty. The wrestlers physical st rength is but one manifestation of a larger disciplinary matrix which entails mo ral, spiritual, social, and physical regimentation. Exercise Yoga To understand the nature of physical exercise in the context of wrestling it is necessary to b egin with the general concept of yoga. Broadly defined, yoga informs the underly ing principles of the wrestlers vyayam (physical exercise) regimen. Yoga is a vas t topic of great complexity, and I make no pretense of discussing it in its enti rety. Technical designations aside, yoga has come to mean a particular type of p hysical training

which serves to relax and develop the mind/body. In the classical literature yog a is classified in various ways. The most salient distinction is between Raja Yo ga or meditationoriented training, and Hatha Yoga, which focuses on kinesthetic movement. Even this distinction is, however, more schematic than real. After car efully delineating types of yoga, Atreya makes the following point: Here it is t o be remembered that there is actually one Yoga, and not many yogas which are ex clusively different from one another. The one purpose of all the yogas is to bri ng the body, the prana [vital breath], the unconscious and the sub-conscious str ata of the mind, the mind and the forces of individuation, under ones control; an d to be conscious of ones identity with the supreme reality which is within us as our very Self (1973d: 48). In philosophy, yoga refers to the ontology of a part icular system. In the Yoga Sutra yoga means the progressive control of the whole body. In the Tantras it refers to the symbiosis of the individual self with the universal soul. In Vedanta, yoga is the discipline through which one realizes o neself as part of the absolute Brahman. The most complete dissertation on yoga i s given in the Bhagavad Gita. While many definitions of the term are offered in this classic text, the most common and general is that yoga is the expert perfor mance of ones duties (Atreya 1973d: 45). Drawing primarily on the Bhagavad Gita, Atreya provides the following outline definition of yoga as a moral, ethical, an d physical discipline. The word Yoga, therefore, now stands for the methods of a ) realizing the potentialities of man; b) hastening the spiritual evolution of m an; c) becoming one with the Divine Being who is immanent in all creatures; d) u niting the individual soul with God; e) realizing the highest ideal of man; f) b ecoming conscious of ones unconscious powers and making use of them; and, g) atta ining perfect health, peace, happiness, will, immortality, omniscience, power, f reedom and mastery over everything in the world (ibid: 47). Building up to a def inition of yoga which includes wrestling, Atreya argues that one of the main obj ectives of yoga is to harmonize the whole body. By this he means the perfect fun ctional interdependence of all of the body systems: digestive, respiratory, circ ulatory, nervous, and so forth. Overlying this functional harmony of the gross b ody is the control which must be exercised in order to channel physical energies to achieve disciplined goals. The natural state of the mind/body is regarded in Hindu philosophy as basically flawed. Yoga is designed to compensate for the na tural irregularities of the mind/body through the application of physical and me ntal control. Although one may practice yogic control and achieve a high degree of harmony, one is not completely healthy, Atreya argues, until one has achieved self-realization. Self-realization requires jivanmukti (release from the world; lit., having left life). In this condition ignorance is banished and replaced b y spiritual consciousness and wisdom. Having achieved perfect health, a person i s not plagued by emotions of any sort. One is simply no longer concerned with th e sensory world of pain, pleasure, suffering, and greed.

Given such a broad definition of yoga, Atreya includes the art of wrestling with in the general framework of yogic practices. Wrestlers do not necessarily perfor m the formal asans (postures) of Hatha Yoga, but they subscribe to the tenets of the more general yogic philosophy of a disciplined life. Narayan Singh, a teach er of yoga, wrestling, and physical education at Banaras Hindu University, agree s with Atreyas point. In an interview he stated that yoga and vyayam are formally different but philosophically basically the same. Wrestling is a form of yoga b ecause it requires that one transcend ones natural physical aptitude and apply pr inciples of sensory and nervous control to ones own body. Wrestling is a subdisci pline of yoga since yoga is defined as a system of physical health, ethical fitn ess and spiritual achievement. Pranayama (controlled breathing) is a primary asp ect of yogic exercise and is also integral to wrestling. Atreya distinguishes ei ght types of pranayama (1965: 13). Only one of these, kumbhak, is employed in wr estling since it enables one to achieve great strength and stamina. The formal m ethods of pranayama that are refined in Hatha Yoga are not practiced by wrestler s to any great extent. However, wrestlers do recognize the general efficacy of b reath control. It purifies the body and unfetters the mind. It helps cut through the maze of sensory images which obstruct the path to enlightenment. Breath con trol is a prerequisite for performing exercises of any kind. It is not enough ju st to breathe; that alone only satisfies the needs of the gross body. To breathe properly harmonizes the body with the mind: the spiritual with the physical. A wrestler must breathe through his nose while expanding his diaphragm. A great de al of emphasis is placed on this point. If one gasps for air with an open mouth and heaving chest, it is likened to the agency of an inanimate bellows. Breathin g in this fashion performs the function of putting air into the body and taking it out, but as such it is purely mechanical. Breathing through the nosewith convi ction, concentration, and rhythm transforms a mundane act into a ritual of health . As a system of physical exercise, wrestling is integrated into the philosophy of yoga through the application of two principles: yam and niyam. As Atreya (196 5: 11) explained in an interview, yam and niyam are the root principles of moral , intellectual, and emotional fitness. Yam has five aspects: ahimsa (nonviolence ), satya (truthfulness), asatya (nonstealing), brahmacharya (continence/celibacy), and aparigraha (self-sufficiency and independence). Niyam also comprises five a spects: shauch (internal and external purification), santosh (contentment), tap (mortification and sensory control), swadhyaya (study), and ishvar-pranidhan (cl oseness to god through worship). Development as a wrestler depends on the degree to which one is able to apply oneself to the realization of these principles. W restlers do not dwell on the philosophical complexities of yam and niyam. Nonvio lence, for instance, is not considered problematic on an epistemological level. Neither do wrestlers seek to explain, or even understand, the metaphysical tenet s of aparigraha, for example, or the distinction made between the external body (sthula sharir) and the subtle body (sukshama sharir). For them the intuitive

application of these principles to their lives is the primary order of business. To be passive and even-tempered is in accordance with a lifestyle of ahimsa and santosh; to go to a Hanuman temple every Saturday is to be close to god. Exerci se is a form of tap, and going to the akhaaraa every morning is an act of intern al and external purification. All of this is not to say that wrestlers are yogis in any strict sense of the term. They are not concerned with the metaphysics of their way of life or with spirituality as an esoteric endeavor. For them the go al is practical in both a physical and a social sense. Yam and niyam develop the wrestlers body/mind and also define for him the basic moral principles of life a s health. Vyayam Vyayam is a system of physical training designed to build stren gth and develop muscle bulk and flexibility. It is in sympathy with the concept of health and fitness articulated through yoga. Yam and niyam are central to its practice. Unlike yoga, however, vyayam emphasizes physical strength. Where Hath a Yoga concentrates on the harmonization of all aspects of the body, vyayam buil ds on this harmonization through calisthenic and cardiovascular exercise. As wit h yoga, a key concept in vyayam is the holistic, regulated control of the body. In yoga, however, the body is manipulated through the practice of relatively sta tic postures. Vyayam disciplines the body through strenuous, patterned, repetiti ve movement. K. P. Singh has delineated twelve rules of vyayam (1973). Although his list is not exhaustive, it is useful in terms of understanding how vyayam is conceptualized as a system of physical fitness: 1) One should arise before dawn , defecate, bathe, oil oneself and go to the akhaaraa. 2) At the akhaaraa tie on a langot and join the company of other like-minded wrestlers who have focused t hemselves on the task at hand. Be sure that the place for exercise is clearly de marcated, for it is no less important to define a place for exercise and physica l training than for spiritual contemplation. 3) Do not start off by over-exercis ing. Pace yourself so that you will not be exhausted. 4) Regulate your exercise regimen by either counting the number of repetitions, or timing the duration of your workout. Only in this way will your body develop at a regular and consisten t pace. 5) Do not fall into the practice of exercising at irregular intervals. E xercise every day at the same time. 6) One should breathe deeply and steadily wh ile exercising. Each exercise should be done to the rhythm of a single breath. N eedless to say, one should breathe only through the nose. 7) Beware of sweat. Oi l your body before exercising. The oil will fill the pores and prevent rapid coo ling. 8) Focus your mind on each exercise. If your mind wanders you will not dev elop strength. Consider the laborer who works all day long. He is not as strong as the wrestler for he does not concentrate on his labor but thinks about other things. 9) Do not sit down after exercising. Walk around to keep warm and loose. If you exercise inside, walk around inside. If you exercise outside, walk aroun d outside. 10) Get enough rest. Take one day off every week. Be asleep by eight in the evening. 11) Do not exercise on either a full or empty stomach. Also do n ot exercise if you have not evacuated your bowels. Do not smoke or chew tobacco. 12) Drink a glass of juice before exercising, and drink milk or some other toni c after exercising. This will help to focus your mind and relax your body.

As a system of fitness, vyayam comprises specific exercise routines. Surya Namas kar Surya namaskar (lit., salutation to the sun) is a hybrid exercise which inte grates aspects of vyayam training with yogic asans. While based on formal yogic principles, surya namaskar also serves to develop physical strength. Although su rya namaskars have undoubtedly been practiced for centuries (cf. Mujumdar 1950), the exercise was routinized and made popular by the late raja of Aundh, Bhawanr ao Pantpritinidhi. Raja Bhawanrao believed that if everyone performed this exerc ise religiously, the result would be a stronger and more upright nation (Mujumda r 1950: xxiv). In a book entitled Surya Namaskars, Bhawanraos son, Apa Pant, make s the following observation: [Surya namaskar] is not a religious practice in the narrow sense of the term. But it does have a deep spiritual content and it open s up a new, more profound, more powerful dimension of awareness. Slowly but sure ly as one continues regularly to practice it, things change in you and around yo u. Experiences miraculously come to you and you feel the full force of the Beaut y and Harmony, the unity, the oneness, with all that is (A. B. Pant 1970: 2). It is precisely this kind of experience which Bhawanrao was attempting to transpos e onto a national level to the end of ethical and moral reform. In the beautiful and harmonized movements of surya namaskar, Bhawanrao clearly saw the harmonize d body of a united Indian polity that would turn, collectively, away from the gr oss sensations of modern life sex, drugs, power, pride, prosperity (ibid: 1214)and toward the pure experience of selfrealization. Surya namaskar consists of ten bo dy postures which together constitute a rhythmic flow of motion (see figures 1a, b). Each posture is punctuated by the recitation of a short mantra to the rhyth mic cadence of pranayama. To perform surya namaskar one should clear a space at least two and a half meters long by one meter wide. This space should be oriente d towards the rising sun. One should wear as little as possible so that movement will not be inhibited.

Figure 1a. Surya Namaskar Position One: With feet together and back and legs str aight but not rigid, bend your arms at the elbow and fold your hands in front of your chest. Breathe in deeply through your nose with full concentration. Focus your mind on your posture and your breath. Position Two: From position one, bend and place your palms flat on the ground on either side of your legs. Your palms should be a forearms length apart. Keep your legs straight and touch your nose t o your knees. Keeping your arms straight, tuck your chin into your chest. Breath e out slowly and evenly as you reach this position. Always breathe with your sto mach: in, stomach out; out, stomach in.

Position Three: From position two extend one leg back as far as it will go and t ouch the knee to the ground. Arch backwards at the same time and lift your head back as far as it will go. Breathe in while doing this and push your stomach out . Always be alert and concentrate on each movement, breath, and sensation. At th e same time remain detached and relaxed. Position Four: Move your second leg bac k so that both legs are extended backwards. Lift both knees off the ground so th at your weight is supported on your palms and toes while your body is held strai ght. Touching your chin to your chest, look down at the ground between your palm s. Hold your breath in this position. Position Five: This is the most important and central position of the exercise. Bend at the elbows so that your body desce nds to the ground. Insure that your body touches the ground at only eight points : the two sets of toes, the two knees, chest, forehead, and the two palms. This part of the surya namaskar is called the ashtanga namaskar, or eight-pointed sal utation. All eight points must touch the ground at the same time. As they come i n contact with the ground you should exhale. Position Six: In order to move from the fifth to the sixth position lift your head up and bend your neck backwards. Then, without exerting pressure on your arms, lift the trunk of your body off t he ground by contracting your lower back and gradually extending your arms. Your spine should be fully arched from the top of your neck to the base of your tail bone. Breathe in while assuming this position and again concentrate on each part of your body. Position Seven: In position seven you reverse the arch of your bo dy by lifting your buttocks into the air as far as possible while extending your arms and legs. Your hands and feet should not move. Breathe out in this positio n. Position Eight: This position is a repetition of position three. It is achiev ed by moving one foot forward and placing it between your palms. Arch your back and bend your head backwards. Breath in deeply. Position Nine: Bring your other leg forward and place both feet together. Straighten your legs and tuck your chi n into your chest. Breathe out with force. This is a repetition of position two. Position Ten: This position brings you back to the starting point of the exerci se. Breath in as you stand erect and fold your hands in front of your chest.

Figure 1b. Surya Namaskar (continued) While doing surya namaskars one is enjoine d to recite six bij mantras (seed sounds). Not only does one pay obeisance to th e sun by reciting these mantras, they also reverberate through the body in an ef ficacious manner. Pant points out that these reverberations invigorate the mind (1970: 9). There are six primary bij mantras: Om-Haram; Om-Harim; Om-Harum; Om-H araim; Om-Harom; Om-Hara. In accompaniment to the six bij mantras one should rec ite the twelve names of the sun: Mitra (friend); Ravi (shining); Surya (beautifu l light); Bhanu (brilliant); Khaga (sky mover); Pushan (giver of strength); Hira nya Garbha (golden centered); Marichi (Lord of the Dawn); Aditya (son of Aditi); Savitra (beneficient); Arka (energy); and Bhaskara (leading to enlightenment). Surya namaskars integrate and harmonize all aspects of the physical, intellectua l, and spiritual body. Position two energizes the pituitary, pineal, and thyroid glands. Position three stimulates the liver, solar plexus, and pancreas. Positi on four stretches the spinal

column and facilitates blood flow to all of the organs and glands in the immedia te vicinity of the spine. Positions five and six are particularly efficacious fo r the neck, chest, abdomen, and sexual glands. The regular performance of surya namaskars is intended to raise ones state of consciousness to a higher level of s elf-realization. As Pant notes, one can then transpose this experience of self-r ealizationwhich he refers to as bliss, harmony, knowledge, beauty, and awareness of the infiniteonto ones experience of everyday life. Surya namaskars are more pop ular among older men than among young wrestlers. While they strengthen the body, they do not strain the muscles, bones, and organs of the body. Surya namaskars are not vigorous, and senior wrestlers practice them in order to maintain their physique and stature. In any case, surya namaskars are clearly associated with p hysical strength and muscular prowess. Shivajis guru, Samarath Ramdas, was said t o perform 1,200 surya namaskars every day. Shivaji himself and Ramdass other disc iples also performed surya namaskars. Mujumdar attributes Maratha physical prowe ss and military success to this exercise (1950: 54). With regard to wrestling di scipline, surya namaskar is important insofar as it represents the formal synthe sis of yoga and vyayam. This synthesis is implicit in many of the exercises whic h wrestlers do. As we shall see, the combination of dands and bethaks echoes the basic movement of surya namaskar. Dand-Bethak Dands and bethaks are two differe nt exercises, but together they constitute the core wrestling vyayam regimen. Da nds are jackknifing push-ups and bethaks are comparable to Western-style deep kn ee bends. Although dands and bethaks are done separately, they are usually refer red to as a pair. As a set they provide a complete body workout. One starts a be thak from a standing position with feet set at forty-five degree angles and heel s about fifteen to twenty centimeters apart. While squatting down one should jum p slightly forward onto the balls of ones feet while lifting the heels clear off the floor. In the process of standing back up, one should jump backwards to the position from which one started. Ones arms should be relaxed. They should sway wi th the movement of the body in order to maintain balance. Ones eyes should be fix ed on a point about four meters forward on the ground, so that ones head will be stationary and balanced. One should do about sixty or eighty bethaks per minute and between sixty and one hundred at a stretch (Atreya 1974: 25). All of this de pends, of course, on the degree of ones strength and previous experience. Similar ly, the number of bethaks one does is relative to personal strength, predilectio n, available time, and specific goals. Well-known champions do between two and t hree thousand bethaks a day. Average wrestlers often do as many as one thousand. At the very least a wrestler will do between five and eight hundred per day. Da nds are similar to certain aspects of surya namaskar. One starts a dand from a f acedown, prone position with feet placed close together and palms flat on the gr ound directly

below the shoulders about half a meter apart. To begin, one cocks the body back by lifting ones buttocks into the air while straightening both arms and legs (see figure 2). Bending at the elbows, one dives forward so that the chest glides be tween the palms close to the ground. One then arches up while straightening the arms and thrusting the pelvis down towards the ground. One then recocks the body to the starting position. According to Atreya one should do half as many dands as bethaks (1974: 21). Once one has assumed the position of doing dands one shou ld not move until all dands are completed. A good wrestler in the prime of life can do about 1,500 dands per hour, and many do as many as 2,000 a day. Those wre stlers who swing joris and gadas as the main aspect of their routine do as many as 5,000 dands per day, but this is exceptional. Whereas bethaks are more often than not performed before jor (see below), dands are performed at the end of the morning practice session. However, there is no strict rule regarding the sequen ce of an exercise regimen. Many wrestlers do their dands and bethaks in the even ing. Figure 2. Dand The most important feature of dands and bethaks is that they be d one rhythmically and at a steady pace. The performance of thousands of these exe rcises produces a mental state not unlike that of a person who has gone into a t rance through the rote recitation of a mantra

or prayer. Thus, dands and bethaks transport the wrestler into an altered state of consciousness from which he derives psychic and spiritual purification. Vyaya m is very much like meditation in this respect. I was told that Jharkhande Rai, a champion wrestler who used to be a member of Akhaaraa Ram Singh, would concent rate so hard on doing his dands that his sweat would leave a perfect image of hi s body as it dripped onto the earth. This and similar stories were told in order to make the point that the wrestler involved was often not even aware of the ex tent of his exertion. Many times I have sat on the edge of an akhaaraa and watch ed a wrestler bob up and down for half an hour or more without taking his eyes o ff an imaginary point on the ground in front of his face. It is not surprising t hat the beneficial effects of dands transcend the mere physical body and strengt hen aspects of moral and ethical character. Atreya points out that dands strengt hen the wrists, fingers, palms, neck, chest, and back. Dands also cure all kinds of illnesses relating to semen loss (impotence, infertility, and spermatorrhoea ) and faulty digestion (1974: 19). Dands strengthen the sinews of the body, and they also develop character: Doing dands makes a persons character and personalit y shine. The body takes on a powerful radiance. Not only this, but the person wh o does dands lives a fuller and more meaningful life. His personality is more at tractive. He is liked by everyone. His whole attitude towards life is changed (i bid: 20). As one of the central exercises in a wrestlers vyayam regimen, it is cl ear that dands do more than develop the gross body. They develop the personality of the wrestler as well. The wrestlers personality derives its strengthas a chari smatic social force and as personal selfconfidencethrough the symbiosis of a pers onal experience akin to enlightenment and a physical experience of muscular deve lopment. With regard to both dands and bethaks Atreya makes the following observ ation: Dands and bethaks make the muscles of the body so incredibly strong that the wrestler appears divine. Dands and bethaks are the mirror in which the aura of wrestling is reflected. They are the two flowers which are offered to the wres tling goddess. Dands and bethaks are the two sacrifices made to the goddess of wr estling. If she is pleased she will bestow great strength and turn mere men into wrestlers (ibid). Jor As distinct from the term kushti, which is used to denote competitive wrestling, jor is the term used for wrestling done for practice, tr aining and exercise (see plates 7 and 8). In the same way that surya namaskar is not only a form of devotion but also an exercise, so is wrestling not only a sp ort but also a form of mental and physical training. Implicitly if not explicitl y, therefore, jor integrates some of the basic principles of yoga into the act o f wrestling. When wrestlers come to the akhaaraa in the morning, each spends bet ween one and two hours practicing jor. After the pit is dug, smoothed, and bless ed, two senior wrestlers take

to the pit and begin to wrestle. Given the nature of wrestling as a competitive sport, each wrestler tries to throw his opponent down to the ground through the correct application of particular moves. Each move is countered by a defensive m ove and this sparring continues indefinitely. The nature of jor is, however, sig nificantly different from a competitive kushti bout. In kushti tournaments (dang als) the aesthetic of structured motion is achieved through a radical opposition of movements. The tone of this aesthetic is harsh, for every move is matched wi th a countermove. In jor, however, both wrestlers tend to work together so that the moves which are applied are executed smoothly. The dangal produces a dramati c grammar of movement with sudden moments of brilliance and, ultimately, clear s uperiority manifest in the success or failure of one or the other wrestler. Jor, on the other hand, tends to emphasize the harmony of the art of wrestling as it is manifest in the details of each move. The emphasis in jor is to apply a move with precision and a minimum of effort. Jor is very much like some forms of dan ce. In jor you must focus your mind at once on the details of each move and on t he whole of which those moves are a part. As in surya namaskar you must focus yo ur mind on the exact posture of your body as it moves from stance to stance and from move to countermove. As pointed out earlier, it is imperative to keep ones g urus name in mind while practicing jor or any other form of vyayam. The gurus name functions as a spiritual beacon which channels the energy of enlightenment into the body of the wrestler. At Akhaaraa Ram Singh the dadas and other senior wres tlers had a clear idea of who was concentrating on their practice and who was no t. If a wrestler opened his mouth to gasp for air it was evident that his concen tration had been broken. Any wrestler who appeared to be uninterested or not put ting out a full effort was quickly rebuked by others. As choreographed, regulate d movement, jor has clear physical and mental benefits. It exercises every part of the body. Anyone who has wrestled for even a few minutes will soon realize th at wrestling brings into play muscles which are not usually called upon to exert force or support weight. Unlike exercises like running, jumping, or lifting wei ghts, jor does not require one to perform repetitive movements. In the course of a jor session, certain sequences of moves will, of course, be repeated. In the abstract, however, the exercise is conceived of as an unbroken chain of movement . In this regard jor is the antithesis of vyayam exercises like surya namaskar, dands and bethaks. While these exercises are mechanically repetitive, jor is alm ost wholly improvised. Jor develops stamina as well as strength. As such, wrestl ers place a great deal of emphasis on breath control. One should never pant or g asp. Never breathe simply to satisfy the bodys need for oxygen. One must breathe in and out regularly and with deliberate, conscious thought. This serves to focu s the mind on the application of specific moves. Many wrestlers with whom I spok e said that practicing jor in the morning cleared their thoughts and invigorated their bodies, allowing them to go about their lives with more vitality. What wr estlers mean by clearing their thoughts and invigorating their bodies is the

same experience articulated by those who practice yoga. Through the practice of jor one is able to achieve a higher state of consciousness which is one step clo ser to self-realization. This self-realization can be directed towards winning i n competitive bouts or, more generally, towards living a richer and more fulfill ing life. As Harphool Singh writes, Wrestling in the earth makes the body elegan t. Exercising in the earth removes pimples, unwanted hair and cures eczema while making the skin shine like gold. Exerting oneself in the earth and becoming sat urated with sweat and mud makes the wrestler feel invigorated. Minor ailments as ide, it is said that akhaaraa earth can cure cholera and other serious diseases. One thing is for sure, however: after bathing, the wrestler who has exercised i n the akhaaraa earth will feel a sense of vigorous satisfaction as his mind beco mes clearly focused. (1984b: 22) Singh continues his dissertation on the efficac y of jor specifically and wrestling in general by saying that wrestlers must alw ays be happy, and present themselves to the world as people who take great pleas ure in life. The experience of jor plays no small part in enabling the wrestler to affect such an attitude. Atreya has drawn up seven points to help define wher e, when, how, and with whom one should practice jor (1985: 23). Although these g uidelines are not followed as rules, they do define the basic principles of jor. 1. You should begin your jor regimen by wrestling with a young child or a wrest ler who is clearly weaker than you. In this way you can warm up while the younge r wrestler gets a chance to exert his full strength. You should always be carefu l to match strength with strength and never beat a younger wrestler simply to pr ove your superiority. As a senior wrestler you must draw the younger wrestler ou t to his full potential. 2. After wrestling with a younger and weaker wrestler y ou should wrestle with someone who is your equal. This will enable you to exert your full potential. You should not try to win. Neither should you lose sight of the fine points of the art to the end of showing off your skill. You should mat ch move for move and countermove with countermove in a balanced exchange of stre ngth and skill. 3. If you are called upon to practice jor with a foolish or brag gart wrestler you should show him no mercy. He must be cut down to size immediat ely. Only in this way will he recognize that strength does not lay in conceit, b ut rather in the regulated practice of moves and countermoves. This must be done . Conceit clouds the mind and a wrestler will never be able to succeed or benefi t from the practice of wrestling if he is ignorant of its basic tenets. 4. When wrestling with a stronger and more senior wrestler you should exert all of your strength but at the same time show deference to his rank. This is a very difficu lt thing to do. It is imperative, however, if you hope to advance and improve. Y ou should learn from a senior wrestler but apply what you learn on

someone who is your equal. Thus your achievement will never challenge the senior ity of the other wrestlers in the akhaaraa. 5. When wrestling with an old wrestl er one must show respect and deference. Never wrestle as though you are stronger than him even if he is old and weak. Always seek to make the older wrestler fee l good and strong. 6. If you practice jor with a well-known wrestler you should assume the posture of a disciple at the feet of his guru. You should show respec t for well-known wrestlers, and it is also important to learn from them. You sho uld not assume that your strength or skill is a match for theirs. 7. When wrestl ing with the best wrestler of an akhaaraa you should always approach him in a fo rthright and confident manner. But never pin him down even if you are able. If y ou try to prove your strength then the practice of jor turns into a contest. As a result no one comes out of the session having gained any knowledge. Atreya als o delineates six places where one may practice jor: at your own akhaaraa, at a c ompetitors akhaaraa, at some akhaaraa in another district, at the akhaaraa of a v illage or town where one has gone to compete in a tournament, at a bus or railwa y station, and while on a journey. In each of these contexts there are rules for proper comportment. You should not, for instance, show your true form while wre stling in someone elses akhaaraa. At the same time you must show respect for your host wrestlers. When at a dangal you should only practice with compatriots from your own akhaaraa. Atreyas list of places where one may practice jor is fairly i nclusive, but there are places where it is deemed inappropriate to engage in jor . One should not practice at home, for instance. In jor a great deal of importan ce is placed on who one practices with. Similarly, comportment is integral to th e performance of jor. Only by adhering to the above-outlined principles is one a ble to learn the actual techniques of wrestling. This is to say that jor properl y done is as much a matter of social decorum and personal attitude towards senio rity as it is a question of purely physical training. Atreya tells of a young wr estler who thought that he was stronger and more skilled than an old but well-kn own wrestler. He practiced jor with the senior wrestler as though they were equa ls. As a result he began losing wrestling bouts and became weak and unhealthy. J oris and Gadaa-s Joris and gadas are heavy clubs which wrestlers swing in order to strengthen their shoulders and arms. At Ragunath Maharaj Akhaaraa, Akhaaraa M orchal Bir and other gymnasia, jori swinging is both a competitive sport and a f orm of exercise. Joris are always swung in pairs (see plate 3). Those used for e xercise usually weigh between fifteen and twenty-five kilograms each. They are c arved of heavy wood and are weighted

with bands of metal. In order to make the joris more difficult to swing, blades and nails are sometimes hammered into them. At the beginning of the exercise, th e joris are held in an inverted position. Each jori is swung alternately behind the back in a long arch. At the end of the arch each jori is lifted or flipped b ack onto the shoulder as the opposite jori begins its pendulum swing. Timing is an important part of this exercise. The balanced weight of one jori must facilit ate the movement of the other. Jori swinging exercises the arms, shoulders, ches t, thighs, and lower back. Wrestlers tend to swing fairly lightweight joris beca use they say that the heavier clubs cause the upper body to become rigid. In con trast to the intricately carved silver and gold symbolic gadas (macelike clubs) depicted in art and used as wrestling trophies, gadas used for everyday exercise are rather plain. An exercise gada is a heavy, round stone, weighing anywhere f rom ten to sixty kilograms, affixed to the end of a meter-long bamboo staff (see plate 4). The gada is swung in the same way as a jori except that only one gada is swung at a time. A gada may be swung with either hand or both hands at once. The swing begins with the gada balanced on one shoulder. It is then lifted and shrugged off of the shoulder and swung in a long pendulum arch behind the back u ntil it is flipped and lifted back onto the opposite shoulder. The gada is held erect for a split second before it is swung back in the opposite direction and o nto the other shoulder. Gada and jori exercises are counted in terms of the numb er of hath (hands) that one is able to do. One gada hand is counted as the movemen t from one shoulder to the other. One jori hand is counted as the combined swing o f both right and left clubs. Unlike dands and bethaks, which number in the thous ands, wrestlers tend to swing gadas and joris for sets of relatively few repetit ions. Those who swing joris and gadas on a regular basis place a higher premium on the amount of weight lifted than on sheer number of hands swung. Dhakuli Afte r jor wrestlers practice dhakulis (somersaults/flips). There are several variati ons on this exercise and all types emphasize twisting rotations. When performed in competitive bouts these twisting rotations enable a wrestler to escape from h is opponents grip. To perform the most common dhakuli you start from a kneeling p osition in the pit. You lean forward and place your head on the earth. Then shif t your weight from your knees to your head and neck. Standing briefly on your he ad, with legs bent, you twist so that you land on your knees facing in the oppos ite direction. This exercise requires a great deal of neck strength, and many wr estlers use their hands for balance and weight distribution. Another dhakuli res embles a one-handed cartwheel. Standing in the pit you place your left

hand on the earth. Flip your body over so that you land on your right shoulder a nd side. This procedure is reversed so that you get practice falling in a discip lined manner. A variation of this dhakuli is to jump and fall alternately onto e ach shoulder without using either hand for support. In order to strengthen their necks, wrestlers practice bridges of various sorts. The most common bridge perfor med by Indian wrestlers is identical to the common Western form. You lie on your back in the pit, and lift your body up into a reverse arch using only your neck for leverage and feet for support. A variation of this is to lie on your back a nd arch off the ground enough so as to be able to roll over. As you rotate on th e top of your head, your arched body rolls over and over. You cross your legs ov er so that you move in a circle around the axis of your head and neck. Shirshasa n Shirshasan (head stand), like surya namaskar, is an adapted form of a common H atha Yoga technique. Wrestlers often stand on their headsas in the dhakuli routin eboth to strengthen their necks and to increase the flow of blood to their heads. This is said to clear the mind of impure thoughts and to bestow a general sense of health and well-being. It is generally recommended for all young men who suf fer from spermatorrhoea or who show symptoms of emotional distress. Nals Nals ar e roughly equivalent to Western free weights and are lifted to develop arm, shou lder, and back strength. Nals are large, cylindrically carved stones which are h ollowed out. A shaft of stone is left in the center of the nals hollow core and i s used as a handle. Nals usually weigh about thirty kilograms, but come in all s izes and weights. There does not appear to be any set way in which nals are lift ed. The general idea is to lift the weight with one or both hands from the groun d to above your head in one smooth motion. As with joris and gadas, those who li ft nals place more emphasis on the weight of the stone than the number of times it is lifted. For the most part nals have been replaced by Western-style free we ights. Gar Nals Gar nals (circular stone rings) are used to weigh down a wrestle r as he does dands or bethaks. As the term gar (neck) would indicate, gar nals a re hung around a wrestlers neck in the fashion of a giant necklace. Many akhaaraa s still have one or two gar nals on the premises, but very few wrestlers use the m. It is said that Gama used to do dands while wearing such a large gar nal that a trench had to be dug between his hands so that the stone would not drag along the ground.

Other Exercises Wrestlers do a host of other exercises, and each akhaaraa has it s own particular regimen of training techniques. Virtually all akhaaraas advocat e rope climbing and running. Many akhaaraas are equipped with large logs or heav y pieces of lumber to which wrestlers harness themselves. Pulling these around t he pit strengthens the lower back, thighs, and feet while it also develops stami na (see plate 15). Wrestlers are often instructed to run at least a few kilomete rs before coming to the akhaaraa in the morning in order to build up both speed and endurance. Some gurus advocate various games which serve to build stamina an d speed. One popular game is referred to as langur daur (monkeys run) wherein wre stlers run around the perimeter of the pit on all fours trying to catch whoever is in the lead. To strengthen their legs and feet, wrestlers often run around th e akhaaraa weighted down with someone on their backs. To build up their arms and develop coordination and balance, they have someone hold up their legs as they run around the pit on their hands. Sometimes a wrestler will lie face down in th e pit and have a heavier wrestler sit on him as he tries to stand up. Jumping ro pe has not been adopted by many Indian wrestlers, but jumping up and down in pla ce or hopping around the akhaaraa on one foot is common. Some wrestlers develop idiosyncratic exercises. I have heard of some who push cars to develop their leg s. Others fill up gunnysacks with sand and lift, kick, and throw these as they s ee fit. In rural areas some wrestlers harness themselves to plows, grinding ston es, and waterwheels. I was told of one wrestler who started his exercise regimen by carrying a buffalo calf across a river. He did this every day until after a year he was able to lift and carry a full-grown buffalo with ease. Although form al exercises are clearly distinguished from everyday physical activities, there is a sense in which work, as physical labor, is translated by the wrestler into a form of exercise. Railway porters in particular regard carrying heavy loads as a way in which they develop their strength. Undoubtedly there are many porters who regard such hard and poorly remunerated work as simply tiring. However, the wrestling porters I know have successfully interpreted what is in fact a form of exploitation into a form of productive exertion. They have embodied their own l abor power, so to speak. Similarly, many of the young wrestling dairy farmers I know speak of milking cows and buffalos as a form of exercise rather than work. Ban Wrestlers practice a number of pair exercises of which the most popular is ban . Ban (literally arrow) is performed as an exercise which both develops strength and which also serves as a muscle massage. The exercise resembles the movement required to draw a bow. Two wrestlers stand facing each other about one and a ha lf meters apart. They lean into

each other and with their right hands grab hold of each others left upper arm (se e plate 5). Both wrestlers push back with their left arm and try to dislodge the ir partners hand. The position is then reversed as both wrestlers push with their left hand against their partners right arm. The idea is to resist your partners p ush with as much force as possible and to dislodge his gripping hand as quickly as you can. Ban expands the chest muscles and develops coordination. It also ser ves the valuable function of toughening upper arm skin. When practicing jor the upper arm is one of the areas of the body most often used as a fulcrum. As a res ult it is often bruised, stretched, and rubbed raw unless toughened up beforehan d. In addition to being a popular exercise for the reasons mentioned above, many wrestlers claim that ban serves to shape their upper body in an aesthetically p leasing way. It gives them the barrel-chested, turned-out arm stance characteris tic of a well-built wrestler. Jori swinging and dands are also said to have this effect. There are also various other pair exercises which some gurus place more emphasis on than others. To strengthen neck muscles and generally to toughen th e head and ears, wrestlers alternately slap one another on the side of the head with their forearms. Variations on this general theme are to strike forearm with forearm, shoulder with shoulder, and chest with chest. A fairly common exercise for the neck is for two wrestlers to pull against the back of each others head u ntil one or the other gives up or is forced to fall forward. A popular exercise at Akhaaraa Ram Singh is for a wrestler to get down in the pit on his hands and knees with his forehead pressed to the earth. His partner then kneels on his nec k with one knee. On all fours, the wrestler tries to lift the weight of his part ner, thus exercising his neck and upper back. This exercise is called sawari (th e passenger). Variations on sawari are numerous: while doing dandas, one wrestle r will have another stand on his legs; while doing bethaks one wrestler will rid e on the others back. Group exercise, although not common, is also practiced in s ome akhaaraas. One form of this exercise is for a wrestler (usually the biggest) to lie down or kneel in the center of the pit, and then a group of five or ten younger wrestlers do their best to keep him from getting up. Often such exercise s are done toward the end of the jor period and will climax in a free-for-all wh ere the senior wrestler turns the tables and sees how many junior wrestlers he c an hold down at one time. Exercises such as these are as much games as they are regimented forms of physical training, but as more than one wrestler has put it, group exercises create a sense of community health among the wrestlers involved . Such group exercises are often referred to as masti, which, for lack of an ade quate gloss, may be translated as an invigorated sense of feeling on top of the world. The vyayam exercises mentioned above are not simply ways in which the phy sical body is developed as a mechanical, biological entity. One must bear in min d that vyayam is performed in an environment saturated with ideological signific ance. This fact becomes more explicit when massage is considered.

Massage Among wrestlers, massage is regarded as a very important exercise (see p late 6). In the akhaaraa regimen, Wednesday of every week is set aside for massa ge. Being a good masseur requires a great deal of skill, and there are some wres tlers who are well known for their ability to manipulate tendons, joints, and mu scles so as to relieve pain and stress. Most wrestlers, however, are not highly skilled in this regard. They are, however, familiar with some basic principles a nd techniques. The first principle, as outlined by Shyam Sundaracharya, is that each muscle group or appendage must be massaged along its whole length. The mass eur must stroke his hands along the wrestlers arm, back or leg. The second princi ple is that of pressure massage. Pressure is applied in various ways on various parts of the body, but most wrestlers simply apply pressure with the heels of th eir hands. This loosens the muscles and makes them flexible. The third principle is that of friction massage, wherein the skin is rubbed vigorously so that a ti ngling sensation permeates the body. Finally, in order to strengthen the circula tory system, there is the fourth principle of vibration. Vibration is applied th rough the rapid movement of the hand and wrist at the same time that pressure is brought to bear on a particular part of the body (1986b: 37). A typical massage routine at Akhaaraa Ram Singh is as follows. The wrestler being massaged sits o n a low step with the masseur standing in front of him. Mustard oil is liberally applied to the wrestlers legs. The masseur rubs each thigh alternately from the knee up to the hip joint. He then takes the wrestlers arms and places each in tur n on his shoulder. Working from the shoulders to the wrist he pulls down and awa y from the wrestlers body, thus rubbing, in turn, the wrestlers bicep, elbow, and forearm. The wrestlers calves are massaged in the following manner. The masseur s its on the ground with the wrestlers foot wedged between his own two feet. The wr estlers leg is bent and the masseur pulls and rubs his hands across the wrestlers calf from side to side and top to bottom. A back massage is performed in various ways. The most common is for the wrestler to lie face down on a special wooden bench while the masseur leans over him. Using his forearm and applying his body weight, the masseur slides his arm down the wrestlers back. While the wrestler wh o is being massaged is face down on this bench the masseur may decide to use his feet in order to apply a great deal of focused pressure on particular parts of the body. I have seen a skilled masseur walk the full length of a wrestlers body, from ankles up to neck and out to either hand. Full body weight is not applied to all parts of the body and so a masseur must carefully gauge his own body-weig ht distribution relative to the type of massage required. Every guru has his own ideas of what massage technique is best. As Atreya has pointed out (1986b: 2930) it is fruitless to try to define rules for something which is inherently

idiosyncratic. Irrespective of the fact that massage is performed in various way s, however, the virtues of massage, as an aspect of physical training, are gener ally agreed on. Most significantly, massage makes the body both flexible and tau t. In wrestling one must develop muscles which are supple and strong. Stiff musc les inhibit movement and prevent the application of certain moves. There is also the danger that an arm or leg may break if it is unable to bend freely. In this regard massage helps develop the wrestlers muscles in a manner suited for the pr actice of wrestling. On a more general level, however, massage has a calming eff ect on the whole body. If one is suffering from physical fatigue or mental exhau stion, Sundaracharya notes, massage reinvigorates through structured relaxation (1986b: 35). In massage, as in many other vyayam exercises, there is a clear syn thesis of mental health with physical fitness. One important aspect of massage i s that it functions to fine-tune the body. In other words, through massage a wre stler achieves a condition where his state of mind is a direct reflection of his state of body. In this way massage serves to reiterate the tacit link between b ody and mind which is integral to vyayam as a whole. Through massage one is remi nded, for instance, that relaxation is as much a question of attaining release f rom worldly concerns as it is a function of the circulation of blood through the base of ones spine, knee joints, and shoulder tendons. Technical massage require s a detailed understanding of human physiology. Although I am not qualified to s peak to this aspect of massage (nor are there any wrestlers I met who possessed such technical knowledge), my suspicion is that North Indian massage is based on a concept of the body that does not isolate body parts, organs, tissues, or ske letal structure in the same way as in comparable Western techniques of chiroprac tic massage. More specific and comparative data are required, but the science of Indian massage seems to be based on a logic of heat and substance flow, with su bstance being some combination of neuroendocrinal fluid and blood. Fluid movemen t along the bodys various channels seems to depend on a complex equation of heat, density, and tissue depth, as well as other factors. In this regard Zarrilli (1 989) has outlined the complex massage and health techniques which are part of th e South Indian martial art called kalarippayattu. The practitioners of kalarippa yattu have a fairly unique understanding of the human body and are able to effec t cures for a range of ailments through the application of complex, secret metho ds of pressure massage. The massage technique associated with marma prayogam is far more sophisticated but probably not completely different from that which Nor th Indian wrestlers practice. Both systems stem from a similar understanding of body physiology. As a vyayam technique, massage reflects the complete symbiosis of mind and body which is also found in yoga asans, surya namaskar, dand-bethak, and jor. As an institutionalized practice in akhaaraa life, however, massage al so has very significant social implications with regard to hierarchy and purity and pollution. We have seen that jor requires a symbiosis of social rank and sta tus concerns with practical techniques of body movement. In the same way, massag e requires a reconciliation of social status with physical interaction. One cann ot completely benefit from a massage without taking into accountand reconciling

oneself towhat massage means in terms of personal interaction. This issue turns o n the important question of who massages whom in the akhaaraa. Atreya writes: In dian wrestling has never been practiced without the aid of massage. It used to b e that in akhaaraas the practice of massage was structured in a very beautiful w ay. As a result wrestling flourished, and India was regarded as a nation of cham pions. [Younger] wrestlers would massage senior wrestlers, sadhus, and the oldes t men in the akhaaraa. It was a matter of showing deference and respect. From th is wrestlers received two benefits. On the one hand giving a massage was a form of exercise. On the other hand, by massaging ones guru and other senior members o f the akhaaraa one received their blessing (1986b: 28). Atreya goes on to decry the present state of affairs where wrestlers regard it as beneath their dignity to be masseurs. Atreyas criticism is, in my experience, somewhat exaggerated. In many Banaras akhaaraas there is a clear hierarchy of who massages whom, and this hierarchy follows the rank of seniority and age. However, rank hierarchy is not rigidly defined. Flexibility is built into the system. Two wrestlers who are ro ughly equal in age and skill will both be massaged by much younger wrestlers who are clearly their juniors. In turn these wrestlers will massage much more senio r wrestlers who are clearly of a higher rank. Any ambiguity in rank status is di splaced to a plane where status is no longer ambiguous. What is significant, how ever, is not so much the rank order of wrestlers, but the general principle of r ank hierarchy as such. Many of the senior wrestlers with whom I spoke were very clear on this point. Massaging ones elders serves to reinforce an ethic of humili ty, respect, service, and devotion. Massaging ones gurus feet is, after all, the u ltimate sign of devotion. Embedded within this system of rank hierarchy based on age and skill is a seemingly contradictory principle of inherent equality. Alth ough the principle of rank applies to those who are clearly junior or senior, th e majority of akhaaraa members are roughly the same age. On this level wrestlers take turns massaging one another, thus reinforcing their equality. Atreya point s out that this serves to underscore feelings of mutual respect. It is important to note that massage, like wrestling itself, entails close physical contact. A masseur must not only touch another person, he must also touch that persons head and feet, which are, respectively, the purest and the most impure parts of the b ody. Massage is, then, a potentially dangerous activity. It poses a real threat of contagious pollution, which can have a serious impact on caste rank. Recogniz ing this, Atreya suggests that it is precisely because massage cuts across caste boundaries that it is important to the general condition of the akhaaraa as a w hole: [Reciprocal massage] creates a feeling of mutual love between the wrestlers of an akhaaraa. . . . Status, class and caste distinctions are erased. The poor est of the poor and the richest of the rich come together in the akhaaraa. This creates a feeling of unity (1986b: 27). Many of the wrestlers with whom I spoke e xpressed sentiments similar to Atreyas. Even where massage structures a hierarchy of rank in the akhaaraa, it is a hierarchy of

status and respect based on principles other than purity and pollution. In other words, a young Brahman boy may be seen massaging the feet of a lower-caste seni or wrestler. Conversely, a lower-caste boy may walk on the back and neck of a hi gher-caste wrestling patron. What is more significant than the fact that such ev ents actually take placefor there are professional masseurs who are often of a lo wer-caste status than their customers is that wrestlers treat massage as a critiq ue of caste hierarchy. They appropriate it as a way of distinguishing their way of life from the dominant way of life which is structured according to rigid rul es of exclusive purity. While many situations in everyday life require contact a nd interaction between members of different caste groupsbarbers who cut their hig h-caste clients hair, for instancesuch activities are structured, and conceptualiz ed, in terms of interdependent roles which preempt whatever close physical conta ct may be entailed. In the akhaaraa in general, but specifically during massage, the caste-based rationale for intercaste contact is explicitly denied. What is unique about massage, in this regard, is that a critique of caste principles is directly implicated as a factor in the collective health of the akhaaraa. In oth er words, as Atreya notes, massage creates a healthy state of social unity among wrestlers. Whereas wrestling as an art tends to champion the cause of the indiv idual, massage serves to dissolve the individual into a state of pure, embodied equality. From talking with wrestlers it is clear that general health and fitnes s depend, at least in part, on the extent to which one is willing and able to me rge with this collectivity of feeling. As Atreya and others clearly imply, a per son who is concerned with caste status, wealth, and other worldly manifestations of power cannot achieve either success or satisfaction as a wrestler. Consequen tly, ones attitude towards caste determines, to some extent, ones overall physical fitness. A wrestler who is not willing to massage another wrestler on the groun ds that he is somehow better than him, is simply not healthy. This sense of heal th again makes the point that fitness is conceptualized as a holistic integratio n of physical, moral, psychological, spiritual, and social elements. In the akha araa the basic concept of a healthy person derives largely from a yogic concept of fitness. According to the yogic principles of Yogavasista, worldly, materiali stic considerations divert one from the path of self-realization and perfect hea lth. Worldly persons are unhealthy (Atreya 1973d: 39). What is unhealthy about a concern with purity and pollution in particular, and the caste-based body in ge neral, is that it validates rank status as a structuring principle of worldly or der. By undercutting caste principles, therefore, massage is regarded as an agen cy for transcending the illusionary bounds of hierarchy. Wrestlers do not fetish ize this issue by turning massage into a self-conscious critique of caste every time it is performed. The power of the act and its implications are felt on a mu ch more visceral, perhaps even psychological, level: a total surrender of the bo dy to a world where sweat and substance mingle without grave negative consequenc es. What is significant, in any case, is the logic of the relationship between p hysical contact, caste status, moral virtue, and general health. One might say t hat massage promotes a form of public health by relaxing muscles as well as soci al and psychological boundaries.

 Diet My purpose here is to analyze the underlying structure of a wrestling diet as a regimen of health. I will show how wrestling dietetics is not only structured in terms of nutrition as a biochemical function but how it is also conceptualized in terms of moral values. In keeping with the general purpose of this chapter I will show how the disciplinary regimen of diet structures the wrestlers identity as a dimension of his overall health. Wrestlers are distinguished not so much by what they eat as how much they eat. They are reputed to drink buckets of milk, eat kilograms of almonds, and devour large quantities of ghi per day. However, w restlers eat many other things as well. Milk, ghi, and almonds only comprise the wrestlers specialized diet referred to as khurak. Like everyone else, wrestlers also eat vegetables, lentils, grains, fruit, nuts, and other items. With regard to the wrestlers dietary regimen what is significant is how each type of food is conceptualized within the larger matrix of diet, and how these concepts are appl ied to the discipline of wrestling. According to Hindu philosophy, people are di vided into three categories based on their overall spiritual cum moral dispositi on: sattva (calm/good), rajas (passionate/active), and tamas (dull/lethargic). I n Ayurvedic theory all food categories are similarly classified ( Khare 1976; Be ck 1969). The basic logic of this scheme is that a sattva person will tend to ea t sattva food. However, a person can, through design or by accident, change his or her disposition through eating food of a different category.) Khare (1976: 84 ) and others (Daniel 1984: 184186; Kakar 1982: 268270) have cautioned against a to o-rigid application of this paradigm of food types to personality disposition. A lthough both derive from a common base, Ayurvedic healing theory finds applicati on in the manipulation of diet, whereas the philosophical typology of physiology is largely a classificatory scheme. As Daniel has pointed out, the Ayurvedic pa radigm is a flexible continuum of tendencies more or less sattva, more or less ta masrather than a strict scheme of absolute rules. For the wrestler the Ayurvedic paradigm provides the basic logic for a very simple rule. Because wrestlers exer cise vigorously and therefore heat up their bodies they must eat cool sattva foo ds in order to foster a calm, peaceful, relaxed disposition. Wrestlers do not al ways agree on the relative properties of specific foods. Although most will agre e on whether something is hot or cold they will often disagree on which of two c losely related food types is cooler or hotter than the other. For instance, butt er is thought by some to be cooler than ghi. Chicken is thought to be cooler tha n mutton, but, like all meat, extremely hot as a general rule. The nature of mil k is somewhat problematic; cows milk tends to be regarded as cooler than buffalo milk, but both are regarded as very sattva on the whole. In order to see how wre stlers conceptualize their dietwhich is to say how they work through the particul ar implications of both nutrition and moral dispositionit is necessary to look at some foods in detail.

Milk and Ghi In every sense, milk and ghi are the two most important ingredients in a wrestlers diet. Although he cannot live on ghi and milk alone, a wrestler c onstructs his diet around them. Generally speaking, they are regarded as the mos t sattva of sattva foods. Ghi in particular imparts long life, wisdom, strength, health, happiness, and love (Atreya 1984: 21). Because of its eminently unctuou s quality, ghi draws out the juices from other foods. It is in this capacity tha t ghi is able to produce resilient semen. As Atreya points out, eggs produce sem en as well, but because eggs are not unctuous in the same way as ghi, their seme n and strength flow out of the body as fast as they are produced (ibid: 23). Egg s are also tamas. One of the main virtues of ghi is that while it mixes with and draws out the properties of other foods, it does not lose its own properties th rough the process of digestion. Its sattva nature remains dominant and resilient . Ghi is good for nearly everything (Ramsanehi Dixit 1967b). It serves as a perf ect, natural health tonic. It may be consumed in any number of ways. Atreya outl ines the ways in which it is most beneficial for wrestlers: 1. After exercise, p lace as much ghi as you are accustomed to drinking in a pan. Cover this pan with a fine cloth and sprinkle ground-sugar candy on it. Then take some milk and pou r it through the cloth into the pan with the ghi. Drink this mixture. There are a number of variations on this basic prescription. All entail the use of various specific, medicinal, tonic digestive powders referred to generically as churan. In all such prescriptions, churan, ground pepper, milk, ghi, and honey are mixe d together in various proportions. Milk is always the final ingredient and is mi xed in with the other items (Atreya 1984: 28). 2. After exercise, take powdered black pepper and mix it in with as much ghi as you are accustomed to drinking. H eat the ghi to a point where it is compatible with your strength (the heat referre d to here is not only the temperature of the ghi but its latent energy as well). Drink the ghi in its melted form. There are a number of variations on this pres cription as well. Many of the same churan digestives are employed. The main dist inguishing feature of this prescription is that milk is not mixed with the ghi. 3. In its melted form ghi is also consumed with food. It may be drunk before the regular meal or mixed in with lentils and vegetables or poured on bread and ric e. 4. One of the best ways to take ghi in your diet is to mix it with dried, pow dered nuts and grains. Basically anything which is dry in naturedry in the sense of being nonunctuouscan be mixed with ghiin this way. Take whatever it is that yo u wish to mix almonds, chana, dried peas, pistachiosand grind them into a fine pow der. Put this

5. 6. 7. 8. powder into an iron skillet and brown it over a fire. Add some water and continu e cooking the mixture until about 150 grams of water remains. Take the iron skil let off the fire and heat up as much ghi as you are accustomed to drinking. Once this is hot, remove it from the fire, take the powdered mixture and add it to t he ghi so that it is lightly and quickly browned. Drink/eat this mixture after y ou have finished your exercise regimen. In the evening, take your usual quantity of milk and warm it. Add to this as much ghi as you are accustomed to drinking. Allow this mixture to form into yogurt through the addition of the correct cult ure. Drink this yogurt after your morning exercises. Be sure not to add any wate r. Grind almonds and black pepper together with some water. Heat up as much ghi as you wish to drink and then add the almond paste to the ghi. Add some sugar an d drink this mixture. Mix together equal parts ghi, gur (hard molasses), and bes an (chickpea) flour. Eat this mixture as a snack after exercise. Mix as much ghi as you wish to drink with as much warm milk as you are able to drink. Consume t his after exercise. This is different from the other prescriptions in that no di gestive tonics are mixed with the milk and ghi (Atreya 1984: 3033). In addition to having ghi mixed into it, milk is drunk on its own. Some wrestler s argue that raw milk is best, but others claim that milk must first be boiled. Milk can be processed in various ways in order to make it more or less unctuous. In this way a wrestler can manipulate his diet in order to accommodate the vari ability of his digestive health. For instance, he may extract much of the butter and drink a low-fat form of milk to which might be added sugar, molasses, or sa lt. Alternatively, he might add yogurt to the milk and make a kind of high-fat m ilkshake, lassi, to which might be added fruit, nuts, or cream. Vedi, who has wr itten on the various beneficial properties of lassi, buttermilk, and yogurt, obs erves, Cool, fresh drinks play an invaluable role in keeping down the heat which is generated by the active body. Cool liquids [such as milk and lassi] penetrate to the innermost parts of the body and draw out heat in the form of sweat and u rine. Of all liquids, milk and lassi are two in which Indians place a great deal of faith (1973: 17). Almonds Whereas ghi produces generalized physical strength, almonds are regarded by wrestlers as a primary source of dam kasi (stamina) and speed (Ramsanehi Dixit n.d.). Almonds are prepared by mashing them into a paste and mixing this paste with milk or ghi. One wrestler explained that almonds imp art stamina and strength because they produce energy but are not filling. Chana While dried peas, chickpeas, and lentils are commonplace items in Indian cooking , they

are also accorded a special place in the dietetics of Indian wrestling. Because almonds are so expensive (75 rupees per kilogram in 1987), chana is regarded by many wrestlers as the poor mans almond substitute. One of the most common tonic s nacks taken by wrestlers is made of sprouted chickpeas. Chickpeas are soaked ove rnight in warm water and are then hung in a loose cloth in a warm place. Once th ese peas sprout, wrestlers eat them with salt, pepper, and lemon. In addition to being a source of energy, strength and stamina, chana is also sattva by nature. Not incidentally, chickpeas prepared in this way are used as the basic prasad f ood offered to Hanuman and other gods on special days of worship. The water in w hich the prasad is soaked is also regarded as saturated with the energy of the s prouted peas. When drunk, this water purifies the blood and also increases ones s trength and store of semen (Saksena 1972: 17). Many wrestlers feel that chana is saturated with all kinds of beneficial attributes. Western nutritional informat ion has served to substantiate the overall value of chana as a source of vitamin s. It is regarded as a source of energy and strength in part because it is so co mmon and cheap. The idea is that everyone can afford chana and therefore everyon e can be strong and healthy. Saksena writes: In this modern age it is difficult for the common man to receive the requisite daily allowance of vitamins. On acco unt of this, the common man has become weak and a victim of disease. It is sad t hat we have turned away from chana, a cheap but nevertheless very healthy food. We have turned to Western tonics and medicines which are packaged in attractive containers and advertized everywhere. Who will advertise the properties of chana when the rich feel that it is a food fit only for animals!? (1972: 18) Many wre stlers with whom I spoke said that when they were young and poorand most of them emphasized that they were poor, and that being poor and strong was a virtuethey c ould afford to eat only a handful of chana to supplement their regular meals. On this handful of chana, however, they were able to build their bodies and genera lly develop their health and vitality. Even though ghi, milk, and almonds are re garded as essential to a wrestlers overall development, chana is accorded high ra nk. It is the food of the people and for the people, a food that potentially giv es everyone access to the wrestlers health and strength. Fruits and Juices All ki nds of fruit and fruit juices are regarded as efficacious by wrestlers. The gene ral rule is to eat whatever fruit is in season, and these are most beneficial wh en taken after regular meals. One should not drink fruit juice for at least two hours after exercising. One can, however, drink orange or lemon juice before ones morning regimen. Not all fruits possess

the same qualities, nor is it clear exactly which properties of a fruit are rega rded as particularly efficacious by wrestlers. Generally, however, fruits contai n vitamins, minerals, and other nutrients which can benefit a wrestlers health. M oreover, fruit is eminently sattva. In the journal Bharatiya Kushti the followin g fruits are recommended for having particularly valuable attributes: wood-apple s (Kamal 1971), bananas Vishwakarma 1974; A. K. Jain 1987), figs (Rajani 1974), pomegranates (Anonymous 1978), gooseberries Rajesh Dixit n.d.; Jaini 1979; d the body are intrinsically linked to one another ( Tripathi 1981), lemons (Lal 1985 ), watermelons (Sundaracharya 1986a), and apples (Yogi 1986). The wood-apple, fo r instance, is regarded as a cure for stomach ailments and digestive problems an d a remedy for sore throat and tired eyes. Mixed with honey, its juice is used t o treat hepatitis. Most significantly, wood-apple is very cooling. During the su mmer months it is used by wrestlers as a refreshment. Similarly, orange juice is regarded as a potent tonic during the summer season. Wrestlers tend to become l istless on account of exercising in the oppressive heat. Although there is not a direct correlation between air temperature, personal characteristic traits, and food classification, wrestlers tend to associate hot weather with a hot rajas dis position. Cooling sattva orange juice is just the thing for a hot day. Speaking specifically about rose-apples, but implicitly about all fruit, H. Jain writes, O ne will find that this fruit is very delicious. It makes the body feel light, fr esh and calm. Sherbet made from the rose-apple is very cooling and it has many o ther attributes, one of which is that it imparts strength (1973: 17). Regular or Common Food Wrestlers are enjoined to eat various green vegetables not only beca use they contain vitamins and minerals but also because they are sattva in natur e (Sundaracharya 1984: 45 51). Along with green vegetables, wrestlers may eat alm ost anything else that constitutes the average North Indian meal: lentils of var ious types; breads made of whole wheat, barley, and millet flour; rice (though i n moderate proportions, for it is thought to have little nutritional value); pot atoes; and other vegetables, such as cauliflower, squash, and turnips. Although these items are essential to a wrestlers health, wrestlers do not emphasize the i mportance of these foods when discussing their diet. Such foodswith the notable e xception of chanaare mundane by virtue of their common, everyday usage and are th erefore not elaborated upon in the conceptual framework of wrestling dietetics. Volume: Ghi, Milk, and Almonds All wrestling foods are sattva. But these foods a lso have other properties. Milk, for instance, helps clean out the stomach. Chan a also cleans the stomach and the bowels. Vegetables provide roughage. Fruit is cooling and refreshing. Ghi, chana, milk, fruits, and vegetables all have partic ular healing properties which do not relate specifically to the wrestling regime n but nevertheless support more general correlations of diet with health. Thus, milk

in any quantity is both sattva and a mild laxative. Ghi is sattva and can also h elp cure coughs, colds, and other ailments. All of these features add up to a ge neralized notion of good health. Healing properties aside, wrestlers drink and e at huge volumes of ghi, milk, and almonds. It is on this level of quantity that food becomes more than just healthy: it becomes associated with physical mass an d brute strength. On one level a wrestler may eat a small amount of ghi in order to maintain his sattva disposition. On this level ghi is taken as a tonic. Howe ver, by eating a large volume of ghi, say half to one liter, a wrestler can take advantage of the ghis high fat content and increase his size and weight. Wrestle rs tend to increase the volume of consumption in proportion to the number of exe rcises they do in their vyayam regimen. There is no simple equation for this but wrestlers who do 1,500 dands and 3,000 bethaks consume about half a liter of gh i and two liters of milk per day. Since the amount of milk, ghi, and almonds one can eat is a direct reflection of ones strength, wrestlers tend to eat increasin gly larger quantities of these items. In many respects being able to eat and dig est half a liter of ghi per day is regarded as a kind of exercise in its own rig ht. One must work up to this volume gradually. It is said that Sadhiki Pahalwaan , a great wrestler of the late nineteenth century, consumed a canister (five kil ograms) of ghi per day. Wrestlers realize that eating milk, ghi, and almonds mak es them big and strong. However, the relationship between diet and size is not o ne of simple cause and effect. Therefore, when a wrestler talks about being able to eat large volumes of ghi, milk, and almonds it is primarily because he is bi g and strong and not because he seeks to become big and strong. Diet is only one factor in a wrestlers overall development. As I was often told, some people can eat huge amounts of food and remain thin and weak while others eat very little a nd get fat. In order to become big and strong enough to eat large volumes of foo d one must exercise properly, be devoted to ones guru, pray to god, and, most sig nificantly, have a calm, peaceful, and spiritual disposition. Seasonal Variation Mujumdar suggests that ones diet must change according to the season (1950: 68468 8). In my experience, few wrestlers actually change their diet in any dramatic w ay. There is some tendency to eat rajas and tamas foods in winter, and extra-sat tva foods in the summer. For instance, urad, a lentil which is regarded to be qu ite hot, is thought of as a winter food. The same holds true for meat. Wrestlers who eat meat tend to eat less or abstain altogether in the summer. In an articl e entitled How to Stay Healthy During the Rainy Season, Pathak (1980) advocates th e use of lemons, bananas, and leafy vegetables. He also suggests that during the rains digestion tends to weaken and that consequently people should eat less. I t is

interesting to note that the Malla Purana provides a fairly precise catalog of w hich foods to eat in each season of the year (Sandesara and Mehta 1964: 10). In general heavy foods are eaten in the winter and lighter foods in the summer, but it seems that most foods can be taken in either season, only in larger or smaller q uantities. For the most part, however, only the fringe itemsfruits, lentils, vege tablesof a wrestlers diet change from one season to the next. The staples remain c onstant although the amount of milk and ghi may be reduced during the rains and increased in the winter months. Dietary Prohibitions There are very few foods th at wrestlers are prohibited from eating. Many Hindu wrestlers advocate a vegetar ian diet. In the journal Bharatiya Kushti and in other popular literature there are numerous articles which claim that a non-meat diet can produce a strong phys ique ( M. R. Gupta 1973; Guru Hanuman 1984; R. K. Jain 1987; Kumawath 1987; Munn a 1983Sundaracharya 1984). An article in the Hindustan Times characterized Chand agi Ram, the national champion, as being ninety kilograms of vegetarian muscle (19 69: 2). The argument of those who advocate a purely vegetarian diet is that a co mbination of grains, nuts, fruits, and vegetables not only produces a solid, big physique, but also keeps that physique cool and unagitated. But vegetarianism i s by no means a strict rule. While meat is regarded as rajas in nature, wrestler s who eat meat tend to rationalize this. They argue that one can eat meat and to some extent avoid the consequences. The trick is to neutralize the rajas nature of meat by some form of counteractivity. I was not able to determine what these counteractivities were. However, many wrestlers implied that meat would only ag gravate ones passion if one were naturally predisposed towards excitability, anger, and hypertension. Thus anyone who ate meat could, and often did, argue that the y were so sattva by nature that meat did not adversely affect them. Moreover, by virtue of their naturally aggressive military disposition, Rajputs are thought to thrive on meat (cf. Staal 19831984; Seesodia 1915; Steed 1955). Some Rajput wres tlers argue that meat is good for them because they should, in a sense, eat what they are. For wrestlers, vegetarianism is not so much a moral issuein the sense of being a more sanskritized, nonviolent way to liveas it is an issue of personal d isposition and predilection. People choose to eat meat or not eat meat on the de gree to which they see it affecting their state of body/mind. As a rule wrestler s do not drink liquor or smoke tobacco. Liquor is extremely hot and is thought t o enrage passion and make one dull, listless, and weak. Moreover, intoxication i s a sure sign of moral depravity and lack of willpower. Even more so than meat, it is regarded as ultrahot and may be classified as the antithesis of ghi. Liquo r is the essence of evil just as milk is the elixir of life, and wrestlers attri bute many modern problems to the growing popularity of alcohol. In a sense, liqu or serves as the black backdrop against which the

virtues of a milk and ghi diet stand out in pure, sharp relief. This important p oint will be taken up again when the issue of moral nationalism is considered in chapter 10. Tobacco is regarded in much the same way as liquor: it is hot. Its use is also a sure a sign of moral weakness. Moreover, it is thought to make the body vulnerable to disease. Wrestlers realize that among other things smoking r educes their lung capacity and overall performance. Caffeine, ingested in the fo rm of tea, is regarded by wrestlers as a mild but dangerous narcotic. As such it is juxtaposed against purer, more efficacious drinks like warm milk, sherbet, f ruit juice, thandai, and pure, fresh water. Strictly speaking, wrestlers are sup posed to eat only what has been prepared for them by their family or what they h ave cooked with their own hands. The idea behind this, as Atreya pointed out, is that psycho-emotional disposition is thought to be mildly contagious. An erotic woman can seduce a man by feeding him food that she has prepared. Similarly, if a man who is sexually aroused cooks food, the wrestler who eats it might also b ecome sexually excited. As a safeguard, wrestlers are enjoined not to eat any fo od which is prepared for public sale. In fact, however, this rule is rarely if e ver observed. I have never met a wrestler, with the exception of Atreya himself, who does not eat food prepared in market stalls or restaurants. Wrestlers are s upposed to avoid sour and excessively spiced foods. Meals are best eaten lightly spiced with garlic, cumin, coriander, and haldi. Chatnis (spicy syrups), achars (pickled spices, vegetables and roots), chats (savories), and pickles in any fo rm are thought to cause either sensual arousal or lethargy. As with meat, howeve r, many wrestlers rationalize the occasional use of pickles by saying that they have a surplus of sattva nature and can therefore accommodate and neutralize the occasional pickle or plate of savory chat. As a rule wrestlers do not chew toba cco or pan (a mildly intoxicating betel nut, betel leaf, and lime-paste concocti on.) However, pan is so prevalent in Banaras, where chewing it is regarded almos t as a criterion of Banarsi identity, that many wrestlers indulge themselves. Ev en those wrestlers who chew it, however, say that it is wrong because it is addi cting and dulls the senses. However, it is so common as to be almost regarded as a necessary evil of social life. Brahmacharya It is a common belief among Hindu s that the essence of life is contained in semen (cf. Carstairs 1958; Edwards 19 83; Kakar 1982; Obeyesekere 1976; Spratt 1966). Consequently, there is a good de al of anxiety concerning the need to prevent semen from being discharged either voluntarily or involuntarily. For wrestlers the concern is magnified. Not only d o they regard semen as the quintessential fluid of life, they also regard it as the

very cornerstone of their somatic enterprise. It is the source of all strength, all energy, all knowledge, all skill. Semen fuels the fires of self-realization just as ghi fuels the lamps of devotional worship. Moreover, semen is regarded a s a distillate of most other body fluids and substancesblood, marrow, and bone, i n particularand is therefore thought to contain the essence of the whole body wit hin itself (Zimmer 1948). It would not be an exaggeration to say that the single most important aspect of a wrestlers regimen is his subscription to the absolute tenets of brahmacharya: celibacy and self-control. Atreya makes the following a nalogy: Brahmacharya is the essence of life. Just as there is ghi in milk, oil in the til seed and syrup in sugar cane, so is there semen in the body. Like syrup and oil, semen is an essential sap of the human body. A person should guard his semen just as a jeweler guards his most valuable diamonds (1972b: 25). In an int erview on the subject of brahmacharya, Narayan Singh observed: We emphasize brah macharyanever to lose ones semen. It is the essence of power; the essence of stren gth; the essence of endurance; the essence of beauty. These days people use powd er and all sorts of things to make themselves look good . . . but there is somet hing . . . there must be something to Vivekananda [the missionary of Vedantic Hi nduism and devout follower of Ramakrishna]. . . . I think if you stand in front of a statue of Gotham Buddha [perhaps the most perfect exemplar of brahmacharya] you will see some light in his face. After all, what is beauty? If there is bea uty, then it must attract god. Brahmacharya gives something special to the lips, a special light to the body, a shine to the eyes, and something special to the cheeks. The disciplinary mechanics of maintaining brahmacharya are clearly artic ulated by wrestlers. The basic premise is virya nirodh or kamdaman (the protectio n of semen) and the control of sensual desire (Ravindranath 1975: 19). A common m etaphor used to describe a wrestlers strict adherence to the path of brahmacharya is kase langot ke (tight/firm g-string). The langot symbolizes celibacy, for it binds the genitals up between the legs. However, wrestlers are cautioned agains t wearing a langot for too long a period of time. Excessive constriction can lea d to arousal, it is thought, and so it is best to loosen or remove ones langot so on after exercising. In order to protect ones semen one must neither think, speak , nor hear any evil. One should never think amorous thoughts. Ravindranath expan ds on this by saying that one should not look at a woman, never speak to a woman , never touch a woman, never think about a woman, never listen to a woman, never be alone with a woman, never joke around with a woman, and, of course, never ha ve intercourse with a woman (ibid). Lest there be any doubt, Ravindranath and ma ny wrestlers with whom I spoke pointed out over and over again that women pose a threat to the young wrestlers self-control. Sensuality of any kind, and heterose xual lust in particular, is to be avoided at all costs. Brahmacharya is not an e asy path to follow. This is particularly so in the modern world where temptation s loom large. Moreover, for the wrestler at least, the discipline involved is do ubly hard. It is thought that because he is so strong, he must contain a larger than

normal reserve of semen. The problem is how to contain this vast pool of virilit y. In part the problem itself suggests its own solution. Exercise and a proper d iet in conjunction with a regimented program of bathing, sleeping, and resting e nsure that semen will be built up and channeled appropriately (Atreya 1973c: 2223 , 25). However, wrestlers also subscribe to other methods of maintaining brahmac harya. Atreya outlines some of these. 1. Satsang (fellowship with good men) The company of like-minded men makes the observance of brahmacharya easier. Moral su pport is provided and one is motivated by a sense of collective duty. Communion with other brahmacharis fosters peace of mind and helps to cut through the shrou ds of delusion which distract and mislead. The company of good men also creates an environment where wisdom can develop. The exchange of ideas based on religiou s works allows for the growth of knowledge (ibid.: 29). It is clear that akhaara a fellowship is envisioned as just such a satsang. 2. Isolation from Sensual Dep ravity In order to be a brahmachari and practice self-control, one must not asso ciate with those things which will foster emotional feelings of love and desire. Austerity is, therefore, the brahmacharis watchword. Films and magazines must be avoided. Animals must be kept locked up so that one will not see them copulatin g. One should close ones ears to lewd remarks and foul language (ibid: 2123). 3. T hought It is through our thoughts that we can change the environment we live in. But thoughts are also dangerous. It is for this reason that one must not frater nize with people whose minds are corrupted by greed, lust, and so forth. Pure th oughts foster a pure environment where the practice of brahmacharya may flourish (ibid: 2325). 4. Austerity The brahmachari must subscribe to three basic forms of austerity: o f body, speech, and thought. Through the practice of these austerities one is ab le to destroy desire manifest in either physical, verbal, or psychological form (ibid). 5. Reading Scriptures and Chanting Hymns One way to protect ones semen is to read the works of learned men. The scriptures will raise ones consciousness t o a higher level, thus making the practice of brahmacharya more meaningful (ibid : 2627).

6. Faith in God The brahmachari should always remember that whatever he has achi eved is through the power of god and the instruction of his guru. The brahmachar i who has faith in god has no worries (ibid). These guidelines for the practice of brahmacharya are further elaborated in a number of popular handbooks on the s ubject (Saraswati n.d.; J. Shastri n.d.; Shivananda 1984). Shivananda devotes sp ecial chapters to a range of central themes: The parents duty to set a good examp le for the young brahmachari; control of desire, mind and emotion; and married l ife and brahmacharya, for example. The body of Shivanandas book is concerned with an elaboration of twenty-five rules for the practice of brahmacharya. Many of t hese rules overlap with those outlined by Atreya. For example, Shivananda expand s on the idea of cleanliness by saying that a brahmachari must bathe and evacuat e his bowels twice a day (1984: 109). Although bathing and defecating have gener al implications regarding health and fitness, the brahmachari wrestler bathes an d defecates in order to ensure absolute control of his semen. Although brahmacha rya is a hard path to followand undoubtedly many fall by the waysidemost wrestlers take seriously the common injunction: brahmacharya is life and sensuality is de ath. Wrestlers try very hard to control their sexuality. They may not subscribe to the rigorous guidelines outlined by Atreya, Shivananda, and others, but they do respect the general theory which underlies the practice. They have an abject fear of semen loss. Wrestlers, on the whole, avoid the company of women assiduou sly. Women, when encountered, are to be treated as mothers and sisters. The very idea of intercourse for the sake of pleasure is a danger of such magnitude that it is almost unthinkable. Similarly, masturbation is regarded as such an abomin able waste of semen that it is antithetical to everything that brahmacharya stan ds for. This is not to say that no young wrestlers masturbate. However, the mora l injunction against masturbation is so great that the issue itself, like sexual intercourse, is never seriously considered as posing an ongoing threat to celib acy. The practice and discipline of brahmacharya begins, essentially, where the most basic expression of sensuality ends. That one not have intercourse or mastu rbate are only the most basic prerequisites for brahmacharya. A less controllabl e threat to celibacy than masturbation is the involuntary loss of semen through svapna dosh (lit., dream error, night emission). Night emission is involuntary i nsofar as it is thought to be caused by dream imagery or some other unconscious force (J. Shastri n.d.: 12). Many advocates of strict brahmacharya claim, nevert heless, that dream imagery is ultimately stimulated by conscious feelings of sen suality and lust. The person who has a night emission is held accountable and mu st work toward reforming his unconscious by means of cleaning out his conscious mi nd. In a book on the subject of brahmacharya, Shastri analyzes in great detail t he problems associated with night emission.

He describes the type of person who suffers from night emission as one who is co nceited and thinks of himself as the essence of masculinity (ibid: 37). While th e basic solution to the problem is therefore a reform of moral character, Shastr i also provides a list of helpful remedies: washing ones feet with warm water bef ore going to sleep, eating extra-cool sattva foods, thinking more deeply on god, and so forth. Most of these prescriptions are by now familiar. However Shastri outlines a host of ancillary techniques (101, to be exact) which may be employed to aid against the scourge. Do not get in the habit of riding as a passenger on someone elses bicycle. Do not sleep with your head covered. Do not drink excessi ve amounts of water. Do not hold back when you need to urinate. Do not sleep nak ed. Chew your food thoroughly. Occasionally place a wet cloth on your stomach. W ash your genitals regularly with cool water, and with salt water at least once a week. Always keep your genitals cool and fresh. Do not warm yourself by an open fire. Always keep your lower back straight. Wear clean clothes. The basic princ iple of these rules is to structure the brahmacharis life to such an extent that every minute facet of daily life comes to play a role in the larger scheme of se men control. Many wrestlers I have spoken with point out that it is important to keep busy and never sit around daydreaming. Every minute of every day must be s tructured, even if it is structured as leisure. Many of the popular handbooks on brahmacharya, as well as the various articles on the subject in the wreslting l iterature, prescribe wrestling exercise as a way to maintain celibacy. My sense is that a number of young wrestlers come to the akhaaraa burdened with a sense o f guilt regarding their adolescent emotions. In the akhaaraa they find a release for these emotions and also a powerful means by which to control their sexualit y. The akhaaraa is not a cure-all by any means, but it does provide a regimented structure which serves to release anxiety. Wrestlers often tell stories of how some wrestler they knew was almost seduced by a woman but managed to turn his mi nd either to his exercise or his guru and thereby prevent a catastrophe. While t he power of celibacy is recognized as absolute, most of the wrestlers I spoke wi th were not able or did not feel it necessary to articulate a theory of how seme n is related to psychosomatic strength. Such theories do exist, of course, withi n the texts of classical medicine and also in the popular literature on the subj ect. Such theories are themselves part of much larger systems of medical knowled ge (Obeyesekere 1976; Zimmermann 1983). For the wrestler, however, what is impor tant is not so much the theory as the practical application of rules. What is al so important is an integrative poetics of power and strength. In this regard bra hmacharya is talked about and written about in a language of rich metaphor. A br ahmachari is righteous. He is not a slave to his senses, nor is he guided by mer e selfindulgent thoughts. He takes no pleasure or satisfaction in worldly things . He has complete control over his thoughts, and stands firm on the limits he ha s set for himself. He stands as huge as a mountain: firm and grand. His seriousn ess reflects the depth of the ocean. He is

a beacon of light and therefore brilliant and resolute. Like a lighthouse he pre vents the ship of life from wrecking itself on the rocks of desire. The brahmach ari does not break his vow. His life is pure and untainted. His roots run deep a nd he does not fall like a stone from a mountainNo: he is an immovable granite ri dge! Sita Ram Yadav explained the complex relationship between dietetics, exerci se, and brahmacharya thus: Because ghi is hidden in milk there is strength in mil k. But if the butter is taken out of milk then there is no strength left in it. In the same way, when semen leaves the body the body becomes useless. I was told that it is evident from the look on a persons face, the light in his eyes, and th e glow of his skin whether he is celibate. On one occasion I went to a wedding o f a sister of one of the wrestlers from Akhaaraa Ram Singh. The guru of the akha araa was also invited. After the meal had been served, the guests were invited t o an audience where the bride and groom were seated on thrones in order to receive the blessing of various family members and guests. After watching for some time , the guru of the akhaaraa turned to me, shaking his head in dismay. The groom, he said, was clearly not a brahmachari, and he proceeded to run through an index of telltale signs: a dark, sallow complexion; a drawn face; sunken eyes; a thin , dried-out physique and stooped shoulders. Some wrestlers are more critical than others, but in talking with senior wrestlers it became clear that many felt, fig uratively as well as quite literally, that the potential energy of youth is bein g sapped, drawn out by the sensuality of the modern, materialist world. Liquor i n particular is directly implicated in this demise. It is distilled from grain w hich could be otherwise used as food. Moreover, liquor neutralizes food and is t herefore doubly wasteful. Specifically, liquor is regarded as a poison in terms of what it does to the body. In the wrestlers conceptual framework we have seen t hat food is regarded as the building block of semen. Liquor, it is thought, atta cks semen and is thus antithetical to food. Wrestlers are uniformly vehement in their advocacy of temperance (Atreya 19741975: 17). They literally cringe at the thought of so much energized semenand all that it represents by way of the nations potential energy for growth and developmentgoing to waste. In a long serial poem entitled Goshala (lit., cow/protection/home), Dwivedi contrasts the virtues of mi lk with the evils of liquor. The night turns slowly to day as the taverns are robbed. Children are robbed of their youth; those who drink are robbed. Seeing the light of dawn, the tavern tu rns in shame. But my goshala welcomes the dawn

of a new day (1972: 37). Ultimately, the power of seduction manifest in the pois on of liquor is no match for the power of brahmacharya manifest in milk and ghior at least that is the wrestlers sincere hope. A common sentiment among akhaaraa m embers is that the power of brahmacharya is so great that it can turn the weakes t and most decrepit boy into a powerful champion. Even if all he eats is dry bre ad or a hand-ful of chana, a brahmachari wrestler will develop a more magnificen t and resilient physique than a wrestler who carelessly consumes buckets of milk . Clearly, then, there is a direct and unambiguous connection which exists betwe en morals, social ethics, psychological well-being, and the strength and health of the somatic body as a whole (see plate 2). Through strict discipline, the akh aaraa regimen provides for a holistic integration of these elements. 6. Nag Panc hami: Snakes, Sex, and Semen Nag Panchami (Snakes [Cobras] Fifth) is a minor festi val celebrated throughout North India in the latter half of July on the fifth da y of the light half of the Hindu month Shravan. As the name implies, Nag Pancham i is a festival in honor of snakes. In Banaras and many parts of northwestern In dia, Nag Panchami is also a time when akhaaraas hold special functions to celebr ate wrestling as a way of life. Akhaaraas are cleaned and repainted. Priests are called in to give special blessings. Gurus are honored, patrons are recognized, and wrestlers demonstrate their skill and strength before crowds of people. It is said that even people who are not usually interested in wrestling take this o pportunity to get involved. Although most people get involved only as spectators , at many akhaaraas the pit is turned into a public arena where anyone may chall enge anyone else regardless of whether they know how to wrestle or not. As one m an put it, on Nag Panchami everyone is a wrestler. Why is Nag Panchami associate d with wrestling? What does a festival in honor of snakes have to do with a wres tlers public presentation of self? By addressing this question I will offer an in terpretation of the symbolic structure of wrestling as a way of life. As has bee n pointed out, wrestlers are seriously preoccupied with their sexuality. Every e ffort is made to control erotic emotion and sensual desire. A wrestler must not only abstain from sex, he must also build up his stock of semen and ensure that once built up it is as potent and strong as it can possibly be. The basis for th is preoccupation is a belief that physical, personal, and intellectual strength emanates from semen. Semen is the locus of a persons moral character and physical prowess. Given this emphasis, it is logical to assume that the symbolic cosmolo gy of wrestling is structured around a theme of contained sexuality. Nag, the ki ng cobra, is a key symbol in this scheme of coded virility.

Before beginning this analysis of coded and embodied virility, it is necessary t o outline the events which make up the ceremony of Nag Panchami. The Celebration On Nag Panchami, snake charmers line the streets of towns and cities displaying an array of snakes. Pythons, rat snakes, and cobras mingle in deep baskets and are brought out, each in turn, to dance to the tune of their charmers flute. Alte rnatively they hang, listlessly limp, around his neck as crowds of people gather to witness the drama. At temples dedicated to Nag Raja (the King of Snakes), of ferings are made to sacred pet cobras who represent the deity. Even at temples not directly associated with Nag, cobras are often brought in by snake charmers in order to enhance the spirit of the festival. These common snakeswhich otherwise l anguish in their charmers basketare also made the object of ritual worship (cf. Ki tts 1885). The main ritual event of Nag Panchami is to offer milk and crystalliz ed sugar to a cobra. As Premlata Vatsyayan writes, On Nag Panchami one fasts and feeds milk or khir [rice pudding] to snakes. A white lotus flower is placed in a silver bowl. One then takes a brush made either of clay, wood, silver or gold, and using either turmeric or sandalwood paste draws the image of a five hooded s nake on the floor. People then pray to this image (1985: 66). In rural areas peop le often go to anthills or other places where snakes are thought to live. They m ake their offerings by lighting incense in front of the snakes hole. Milk is plac ed in a bowl to entice the snake out and is later poured down the hole as a liba tion (cf. Fuller 1944). As a number of authors have noted, feeding milk to snake s is a common motif in myth and folklore (La Barre 1962: 94; Thompson 19551958: B 391.1.3, B784.2.1.0, B765.4.1, Q452; Vogel 1926: 174175). Nag Panchami is a day t o pray to snakes so as to avoid being bitten. Pandit Rakesh (1986: 61), referenc ing the Garuda Purana, points out that praying to snakes is an auspicious act wh ich can make wishes come true. He also says that after having made an offering t o a snake one must follow the common ritual injunction of feeding a Brahman (ibi d). Having done these things, Rakesh concludes, one will encounter no major diff iculties in life. On a commonsense level snakes are regarded as dangerous. Nag P anchami is a festival which functions on a symbolic plane to subvert any possibl e danger of being poisoned. Taking ritual action to avoid being poisoned is tran slated into a general condition which insures auspicious health and longevity. I n addition to the salient points outlined by Rakesh, many people I spoke with in Banaras said that plowing or digging is forbidden on Nag Panchami because one m ight inadvertently kill a snake. Vatsyayan writes that one should not dig or plo w for the whole

month of Shravan. But she adds that this is somewhat extreme and may not be foll owed strictly (1985: 66). On Nag Panchami many people decorate their doorways an d walls with pictures of snakes (cf. Fuller 1944; Vogel 1926: 277280). They eithe r draw these themselves, or purchase them from vendors who sell posters at stree tside stalls. A typical poster shows a coiled snake surrounded by other snakes i n wriggling configuration. Auspicious mantras caption these posters which, in ad dition to being decorative, are designed to ward off dangerous snakes. An import ant dimension of Nag Panchami has to do with the telling of folktales and myths about snakes. One of the most common is recorded by Vatsyayan: In a kingdom live d a farmer and his family. The farmer had two sons and a daughter. One day while plowing, the farmer accidentally killed three young snakes. At first the mother of the three dead snakes raged in anger but then vowed to avenge her childrens m urder. That night the snake entered the farmers house and bit the farmer, his wif e and their two sons. They all died. Early the next day, having seen what happen ed, the farmers daughter offered a bowl of milk to the mother snake and folded he r hands asking forgiveness for what her father had done. She asked that the snak e restore her parents and brothers to life. Pleased with the milk offering the s nake did as the farmers daughter asked (1985: 67). Many other tales are also told . Vogels collection (1926), though dated, is the most complete and includes most of those catalogued by Thompson and Balys (1951). Though none of these folktales make an explicit reference to wrestling, they do express symbolic themes of con tinence and contained sexuality, themes of general importance to wrestling. The M aiden Who Wedded a Snake (Vogel 1926: 174175), offers a clear example of the snake as a symbol of erotic sexuality. The Story of the Jealous Nag (ibid: 177) illustr ates the danger of a womans insatiable passion. In this tale the female snake and her human lover are burnt to death by the jealous snake husband. In another tal e (Vatsyayan 1985: 67), a man and his wife are made to promise their firstborn d aughter to a snake. When they do not fulfill their promise the snake kidnaps the daughter by enticing her into a lake and pulling her down into the depths. Whil e most of the stories told on Nag Panchami are folktales, passing reference is m ade to snake myths in the epics. Krishnas defeat of the Nag King, Kaliya (Harivam sa, chap. 68), is the most popular. In this story Krishna falls into a part of t he Yamuna river where Kaliya lives. After being overcome by poison, Krishna rall ies and ends up beating the snake king into submission, thereby purifying the wa ters of the holy river. Kaliya is relegated to live in the ocean, and the Yamuna riverlikened in the text to the beautiful body of a maidenis made safe for the co wherds among whom Krishna lives. One wrestler told a version of this story in wh ich Krishna dives into the still waters of the Yamuna and defeats Kaliya by stic king his flute through the snake kings nose. As H. Zimmer points out (1946: 87), it is significant that Krishna does not kill Kaliya. In the myth, passion is sym bolically controlled

but not neutralized. Nags power to ravishwhich he does to the river maiden Yamunais harnessed by the cooling agency of the ocean. The energy of sexuality is not sm othered; it is simply put in its proper place. This, as we shall see, is an impo rtant theme in the akhaaraa celebration of Nag Panchami. The folktales and myths about snakes that are told on Nag Panchami generally reinforce a notion that sn akes represent sex as dangerous. The ritual of Nag Panchami, as will be seen, is designed to address the problem of sexual danger. Nag Panchami is celebrated in various ways throughout India (cf. Banerjea 1956; Crooke 1926: 381399; Fuller 19 44; Mandlik 1868; Panda 1986: 105113; Vogel 1926; Wadley 1975). However, the basi c practice of propitiating snakes by offering them milk is almost certainly a un iversal aspect of the festival throughout India. Nag Panchami at the Akhaaraa Al though I have never seen wrestlers offer milk to snakes, the general motif is ne vertheless common in the wrestling milieu. Akhaaraas are often decorated with fi gures of snakes, many of which are depicted drinking from bowls of milk. I was t old that if a snake were to appear in an akhaaraa on Nag Panchami or any other d ay, it would be offered milk. At Narsingh Akhaaraa there is a special shrine ded icated to Nag Raja. A bowl is suspended in the middle of this shrine as a perman ent symbol of the annual milk offerings made on Nag Panchami. Most of what occur s in the Banaras akhaaraas on Nag Panchami does not relate to snakes explicitly. To the best of my knowledge no snake charmers are called, no posters of snakes put up, and no folktales or myths recounted. The akhaaraa festivities simply do not make reference to what is generally regarded as the most common and popular dimension of the Nag Panchami celebration. At first this appeared paradoxical. I t soon became clear, however, that while snakes are not formally manifest in akh aaraa celebrations, the symbolic meanings associated with snakes are, neverthele ss, invoked in various other ways. There are clear symbolic parallels between wr estling as it is ritualized in akhaaraas on Nag Panchami and the more general si gnificance of the festival as it relates to snakes. Much of the sexual meanings encoded in Nag Panchami ritual are also found encoded in the symbolic life of th e wrestler. The wrestler embodies the cosmic structure of Nag Panchami ritual an d folklore. On Nag Panchami akhaaraas are cleaned, repaired, and repainted. Temp les are refurbished and colored flags and mango leaves are hung on strings aroun d the pit. Special earth is brought in from rural areas, usually from the bottom of dried-out ponds, river banks, or other places where the soil is fine-grained and soft. Oil and turmeric, and occasionally perfumes and nim leaves, are mixed with the earth as it is added to the pit. Chairs are set up and rugs laid out f or guests who are invited to watch the days events. Everyone tries to

wear new or clean clothes. Devotional hymns and popular film tunes are played ov er rented public-address systems. Priests are hired to perform a special puja at the akhaaraa. The ritual puja is not directed at any deity in particular but at the pit. The names of Hanuman, Ram, and Shiva (but not Nag) are invoked, but th e object of devotion is not these deities but the earth. There are two primary p arts to the pujas I have seen. First, the priest and his assistant prepare a lar ge brass plate of soaked chickpea chana and batasa (crystallized sugar). Water i s sprinkled on this prasad offering. The priest chants a prayer over the plate a s it is placed in front of Hanuman. A fire is lit in front of Hanumans image and he is anointed with sandalwood or turmeric paste. The second part of the ritual begins when the priest lights a bunch of incense sticks and walks with these aro und the periphery of the pit. As he walks in a clockwise direction, the priest t akes handfuls of earth and allows the smoke from the incense to mingle with the new soil. This stage of the ritual is identical with the blessing/invocation don e every morning before practice. The smoke from the incense transfers Hanumans bl essing into the pit. The incense is planted in the middle of the pit and everyon e gathers around and chants some version of the following common invocation: Spea k the praises of King Ram Chandar! Praise be to Rams devout disciple Hanuman! Pra ise be to the great God Shiva! The priest then takes the incense around to each m ember, who cups the smoke in his hand and draws it to his chest or face in an ac t of communion with the pit. The priest carries the plate of prasad around the a khaaraa and offers a handful to each member. As the wrestlers eat the prasad the priest puts a tika of vermilion paste on each persons forehead. While the priest and his assistant prepare the prasad and incense, the members of the akhaaraa u ndress and put on their langots. By the time the invocation is chanted, the pit is encircled by a large number of wrestlers clad only in their g-strings. Those who are not wrestlers and have come only to watch stand out distinctly as a crow d of clothed people on the periphery of the akhaaraa. Attention is clearly drawn to the wrestlers bodies. While wrestlers feel comfortable in their langots and t here is usually no self-consciousness about ones body in the akhaaraa, Nag Pancha mi tends to force the wrestlers subjective awareness of his physique into an obje ctive projection of what it means to be a wrestler. The wrestler is always aware of his body as a meaningful and significant part of his identity. On Nag Pancha mi, however, his body takes on special significance by becoming an objective and somewhat depersonalized representation of a whole way of life. During the ritua l the wrestler is on stage and his body becomes emblematic of what he does. Once the puja is completed, wrestlers pair up and put on brief demonstration bouts. At some point during the festivities each wrestler makes a cash offering to the guru of the akhaaraa. In 1987 Jaddu Singh, the acting guru, sat on a chair in th e corner of the pit

holding a framed portrait of his elder brother Ram Singh. The members came by an d placed garlands on the portrait as they touched Jaddus feet. While the blessing of the pit and the formal recognition of the guru are important parts of the fe stivities, Nag Panchami is primarily an occasion for many akhaaraas to sponsor d angals (wrestling tournaments). Nag Panchami dangals are unique and must be dist inguished from more common, secular tournaments. Nag Panchami dangals take place w ithin akhaaraa precincts, while most other dangals are held in larger, secular p ublic arenas. As distinct from regular wrestling bouts, Nag Panchami dangals sho uld be seen as the extension of more general religious themes of propitiation. O n Nag Panchami wrestling is an act of obeisance to Ram, Hanuman, Shiva, and the earth of the pit. Just as the body of the wrestler becomes an emblematic object of celibacy, moral virtue, and strength, so are the religious and symbolic aspec ts of wrestling writ large on the occasion of Nag Panchami. While all dangals ar e dramatic, Nag Panchami dangals dramatize a particular code of symbolic meaning associated with the power and danger of sexual energy as it relates to physical strength. Nag Panchami is an occasion for everyone to see how much a wrestler h as developed and improved over the previous year. As one person put it, a wrestl er eats, exercises, and practices for a full year and then puts himself on displ ay to bear witness to the virtue of his endeavor. One wrestler compared the publ ic presentation of self on Nag Panchami to a farmers proud perusal of his careful ly nurtured crops. Like a well-rooted and irrigated plant, a wrestler grows and develops out of the akhaaraa earth. On Nag Panchami the wrestlers body takes on t he symbolic properties of nurtured growth which is associated with fertility and the agricultural cycle. The significance of contained sexuality will be analyze d through an examination of eight motifs: rain and water, snakes, milk, ghi, alm onds, earth, trees, and exercise. On Nag Panchami the wrestlers bodysituated, sign ificantly, at the locus of these eight motifs represents a powerful scheme of con tained sexuality manifest as growth and increasing physical prowess. Rain and Wa ter Nag Panchami is celebrated during the early weeks of the monsoon season. Aft er the long, hot months of summer the rains, which move up the Gangetic Plain fr om the Bay of Bengal, bring much-needed relief. The rains mark a distinct season al change that is of greatest importance to farmers who must plow and plant thei r fields. Wrestlers also recognize the significance of the rains. For them they mark the beginning of the wrestling season. They also bring them out of torpid d ormancy. Cooler weather enables wrestlers to exercise with renewed vigor. The me aning of rain in the context of wrestling is parallel to the significance rain h as to the agricultural cycle. Moreover, Dundes has noted that throughout the Ind o-European world, water and moisture in general are regarded as life-

giving (1980: 109). Rain in particular helps wrestlers grow, and so, too, does t he regimen of daily bathing. Water falls on the fertile ground of the wrestlers b ody and brings forth dormant strength and skill. Nag Panchami is a time when wre stlers bloom. The Vedic term for season, retumost often associated with vrsa retu , the rainy seasonis etymologically very close to the Vedic term for semen, retas (OFlaherty 1980: 20). With regard to rain and semen there is another theme which points up an interesting parallel between rain and wrestling. Vrsti (rain) and vrsan (a powerful, virile, lustful man or a bull) are both derived from vrs (to rain or pour forth; ibid.). There is a clear parallel between rain and semen, pa rticularly if one bears in mind the obvious role of the monsoon rains in agricul tural growth and generation. The theme of virility as symbolically linked to rai n and strength provides a strong case for why wrestlers celebrate their identity at the beginning of the monsoon season. In Hindu mythology and folklore snakes represent rain (Maity 1963: 124125; Rig Veda: 1.22.2; Vogel 1926: 34). In a more general sense they are often regarded as the deities of ponds and rivers (Crooke 1926: 390; Harivamsa chap. 68; Maity 1963: 154). H. Zimmer writes: Like a river winding its way, the serpent creeps along the ground: it dwells in the earth and starts forth like a fountain from its hole. It is an embodiment of the water of life issuing from the deep body of mother earth (1946: 7475). In this respect sna kes represent two aspects of water: masculine rain as semen and feminine water a s nurturing essence. The snake both falls from the sky and gushes from the earth . Snakes must not, therefore, be strictly associated with either feminine or mas culine attributes. Significantly, snakes represent both male and female sexual e nergy. They are not purely phallic (Kakar 1990: 57); neither is the dominant mot if one of impregnation. Snakes symbolize a powerful form of androgynous sexualit y which is clearly apparent in the reconciliation of male rain with female water . This point may be taken a step further if we consider the oppostion of fire an d water in relation to snake symbolism (OFlaherty 1980: 214215). While snakes are associated with water, they also represent lightning (Vogel 1926: 34). As such sn akes represent the fire of passion and the danger of unbridled lust (Kakar 1990: 5263). A common theme in Indian folklore is the belief that an erotic womans vagi na contains a poisonous snake (OFlaherty 1980: 292). On the male side of the erot ic equation the snake represents instinctual passion which must be controlled an d channeled. As OFlaherty has shown, the theme of serpent passion-fire is clearly manifest in the mythic metaphor of the submarine fire. Herein the cooling prope rties of the ocean contain the fire of sexual energy (ibid: 214, 215). Kaliya, a s one may remember, is banished to the ocean where his poisonous passion is cool ed. Without going into this in detail, one may see that just as the ocean contro ls passion, so does the rain aspect of Nag balance his or her fiery passionate d imension. Significantly, rain, water, and fire comprise a balanced symbol of sex ual energy. The power of sexuality, both male and female, is recognized through the metaphor of rain and water,

and the danger of sexuality as lust and passion is recognized in the metaphor of lightning. Passion is always cooled through the agency of rain and water. Sexua lity thus remains a potent symbol of power while the dangerous aspect of sex is held in check. In wrestling, where contained sexuality is so important, the rain of Shravan represents both the engendering strength of semen and the cooling of fiery passion. The rainy season evokes the symbolic significance of contained s exuality, and the wrestlers body reflects the dynamic reconciliation of passion w ith strength. As we shall see, the wrestler must never lose semen. He must turn it back into physical and moral strength. As a result, he must translate the fie ry energy of passion into the physical energy of strength. He is thus like the h uge rain clouds that roll up the Gangetic Plain, swollen with rain and sparkling with lightning. An alternative of this same motif would be that cooling rain sy mbolizes the liquid female aspect of sexuality while the snake represents the fi ery passionate side (cf. OFlaherty 1980: 55; 1973: 286289). However, in such an in terpretation passion is cooled only through the release of semenas the rain falls from the swollen clouds onto the earthwhich is antithetical to building strength through containment. The more appropriate interpretation with regard to Nag Pan chami ritual is that rain represents the nascent energy of semen for which the s nake is, in either a male or female guise, the potent agency of passion. By thus relating but isolating agency from element, snake from rain, passion from sexua lity, the wrestler is able to focus on his sexual energy without falling prey to passion. Snakes In his analysis of snakehandling cults in the United States, We ston La Barre presents a convincing argument for the phallic symbolism and sexua l significance of snakes (La Barre 1962; also, cf. Dundes 1985; Mundkar 1983). W ithout entering into the debate over the universality of this motif, I think it can be shown that in India in general and certainly in the world of the wrestler , snakes represent sexuality in many forms. Lingamsphallic-shaped rock images of Shivaare often depicted with a snake coiled around the base of the stone or etche d onto the yoni (vagina/source/base) on which the phallic rock is seated. Along with this graphic and very common motif is the idea that the serpent goddess Kun dalini is coiled around a persons spine. The practice of yoga is designed to give one control over the energy of Kundalini. In the imagery of Kundalini Yoga the seed of shakti is activated at the base of ones spine and shot upward through the serpent to the top of ones head (OFlaherty 1980: 45). This metaphor of ejaculatio n (which, not incidentally, is completely self-contained) provides a symbolic gr aph of selfrealization and metaphysical release in Hindu spiritualism. Although snakes have a clearly male phallic dimension there is also the common motif of t he dangerous poisonous female snake. The myth of Putana, who poisoned her breast s in order to destroy Krishna, symbolically reflects the dangerous side of femal e power in this

regard. Folklore clearly supports this image of dangerous female sexuality in th e form of snakes. In the story of the jealous Nag (Vogel 1926: 176) a female sna ke entices travelers to her bed and is ultimately killed by her husband because of her uncontrollable passion. As Kakar has noted, it would be a mistake to jump too quickly to general conclusions regarding the nature of female seductive pow er. At the very least one must take into account, on both a social as well as ps ychological level, the question of who is being seduced, under what circumstance s, and by whom: father/daughter, mother/son, sister/brother or stranger/stranger . While themes of seduction and passion abound, what is most intriguing is the m ix of particular sociopsychological roles with the expression of erotic emotions . How, for instance, is eroticism reconciled with the opposed roles of mother/lo ver or father/husband? While this is largely a psychological question, I think i t is possible to draw general cultural conclusions from the symbolic logiccoded i n myth, enacted in ritual, and embodied through exerciseby which means sense is m ade of anathema. Thompson (19551958: D1837.4) and Crooke (1926: 394) give instanc es where the shadow of a pregnant woman can render a snake powerless (or blind). Enthovan indicates that a snake-bite healer loses his power over poison if he l eads an immoral life, and particularly if he is in contact with a woman who has just given birth (1924: 138). Here the power of fertility overcomes the power of sexuality in either its male or female guise. The pregnant woman poses a threat to snakes (or to snake power transposed onto the healer) because, on a symbolic level, fertility is the inverse of erotic sexuality. Milk, then, becomes the do minant symbol, and energy is redirected away from sex to nurturing growth. The s ymmetry of poison and milk is intriguing, for as Enthovan shows, milk (represent ative of a pregnant or fertile woman) can ritually neutralize poison (1924: 135) . Women are not categorically dangerous, only contigently so as either strangers or wives. It is only their erotic qualities which are snakelike; and in fact wh at is far more important than generic sexuality is the precise agency of erotici sm reflected in fantasy and ritual. Maternity neutralizes passion, and it is in this respect, as we shall see, that milk plays an important symbolic role in a w restlers diet. On a conscious level, at least, wrestlers regard snakes as the sym bolic equivalent of lustful women. One wrestler told me that the glance of a wom an is as dangerous as the bite of a snake. Many of the young wrestlers with whom I spoke expressed an abject fear of eroticism in any form. In this aspect snake s are associated with rabid female sexual energy which, in the view of many Indi an men, is both physically and psychologically debilitating (cf. Carstairs 1958; Kakar 1981). That women are not allowed to enter the akhaaraa precinct is witne ss to the threat they pose. The most powerful symbolic imagery employed in this regard is not only of poisonous fluid injected, but also of precious fluid sucke d out. Here the image of the suckling snake is significant (La Barre 1962: 9498; Thompson 19551958: B765.4.1; for a comparative perspective see Brandes 1981: 22222 7; 1985: 8084). From a wrestlers perspective, having sex with a women is like bein g sucked dry by a snake (cf. Jones 1951; Legman

1975). In this imagery the more common roles are reversed. The breast becomes th e phallus from which semen rather than milk is sucked out. There is, then, an ap parent ambiguity in the motif of the suckling snake. On one level the snake suck s out the mothers nurturing milk, but on a parallel symbolic plane it sucks out v ital male energy. In the Indian scheme these confusing themes are, in fact, comp lementary. As Kakar (1981) and Carstairs (1958) have argued, the image of the se xually aggressive debilitating woman is in part structured in complementary oppo sition to that of the domineering authoritarian mother (cf. OFlaherty 1980: 108). A mother who refuses to give up her milk becomes a sexually aggressive woman wh o saps men of their vital fluids (ibid). The bad mother is a dangerous woman on two fronts: she does not give up her fluid while she also takes fluid away. As t he snake drinks milk it is associated with both the good mothers flowing milk and the bad mothers passion. On one plane the suckling snake is a potent symbol of e rotic fantasy, but it is also, on another plane, emblematic of the non-erotic, s ymbiotic relationship between mother and child. The motif of the suckling snake raises the issue of sexuality in the same instance that it resolves it. As we sh all see below, this same parallelism carries over into the ritual context of Nag Panchami in the akhaaraa. The sexual aspect of snakes is the most dominant moti f in folklore and ritual. It is intriguing that another common motif is that of the snake guarding treasures buried in the earth (cf. Crooke 1926: 390; Enthovan 1924: 130131; Jacobs 1899: 140142). In many of the tales recounted by these autho rs, the treasure guarded by snakes is not only hidden and hoarded, but also very valuable. Given that snakes are associated with sexual energy, it is clear that the snakes wealth is a symbol of semen. This is further evidenced by motifs of s nakes spitting out lumps of gold (Thompson 19551958: B103.4.2.1; Jacobs 1899: 140 142). In the context of wrestling this motif is significant given the dominant t heme of contained sexuality. The wrestler must guard his store of precious semin al fluid just as a snake keeps watch over the life-energy that is stored in the e arthly waters of springs, wells, and ponds (H. Zimmer 1946: 63). As a common folk tale has it (Jacobs 1899: 140142), snakes give up their jewels in exchange for mi lk; that is, they give up semen/jewels for semen/milk, thus taking in essentiall y what they put out. Milk is changed into poison in this and other tales (cf. OFl aherty 1980: 54) but it is, significantly, poison directed at someone who either does not offer milk or who tries to steal the treasure. In any case, the domina nt motif here, as in the case of the suckling snake, is one of protected vital m ale fluids. Milk Milk is the central ingredient of a wrestlers diet. A wrestler i s stereotyped as a thickset man who can consume buckets and buckets of milk. K. P. Singh writes of the properties of milk: In order to reinvigorate oneself afte r exercise one should drink milk. . . . The strong substance of milk

products imparts strength and valor. The mind becomes healthy and refurbished. D iscipline is established and one becomes attentive. After a few days of exercise all other forms of satisfaction are channeled into strength. Surplus energy is sublimated and given a productive and beautiful outlet. Milk is like the anchor of a ship which allows the vessel to bob on the waves but prevents it from sinki ng (1973: 31). Wrestlers clearly associate milk with both physical strength and sexual virility. Milk, however, develops virility without igniting the fires of sexual passion. As Singh points out, surplus energy is channeled away from other forms of satisfaction. Sensual feelings are redirected into physical exercise, an d milk contributes to this transformation. Milk is the essence of condensed ener gy: Wanting to develop his strength, Lord Krishna went about the following proced ure. He fed the milk of ten thousand cows to one thousand cows. He then milked t hese one thousand cows and fed their milk to one hundred other cows. He milked t hese one hundred and fed their milk to ten cows and finally fed the milk of thes e ten to one cow. Krishna then drank this cows milk whereby he in fact ingested t he combined energy of 11,111 cows (Atreya 1972a: 33). On this plane there is an o bvious parallel between wrestlers and snakes: both are characterized as extraord inary drinkers of milk. In order to understand what it means to feed milk to bot h snakes and to wrestlers it is necessary to first analyze the symbolic properti es of milk. In Hindu myth and ritual, milkparticularly cows milkis one of the pures t fluids. In its symbolic character it is purely female (OFlaherty 1980: 36). Sig nificantly, milk is linked to more general themes of female fertility and creati ve energy. In the Vedas milk is referred to as vrsnyam payas, or virile seed-like milk (ibid: 21). The implication here is that womens milk is female seed (the ide a of a female seed being quite common in Indian mythology) and that therefore it is clearly the symbolic opposite of male semen. In Vedic literature, semen is s ometimes referred to as sukram payas, bright milk (ibid: 23). In general, OFlaher ty argues that milk and semen are linked on the level of secondary metaphorical a pplications wherein they refer to rain, water, Soma (ritual elixir), oblation and child (ibid: 24). Zimmermann has also pointed out that the thick fluidity and whit eness of milk resembles phlegm, semen and ojas, the vital fluid. It shares their properties, heavy, sweet, cold, unctuous (1988: 204). Milk, however, is not just semen; it is a special kind of semen. According to the Satapatha Brahmana, milk is the semen of Agni, the god of fire (ibid: 205). Thus, again, there is a shar p distinction made between the fire of passion and the nature of semen as a sexu al, though non-erotic, fluid; a dissociation of agency from substance. It is on this level in particular that the symbolic link is made between semen and milk i n the everyday world of the wrestlers life. Milk is consumed by men to enhance vi rility (OFlaherty 1980: 5152). To wrestlers, for whom virility is linked to the de velopment of physical prowess and personal character, milk contributes to ones gr owing reserve of semen. While milk has important symbolic properties, the act of milking is no less significant. As OFlaherty has pointed out, milking is likened to intercourse where semen is milked out of the male and mixed with the female seed to create life (ibid: 21, 24). This idea fits with the

notion that men can be milked of their strength through contact with the wrong sor t of passionate women. In this regard the dual properties of milk as symbolizing both male and female essence becomes important. If a man is milked of his semen /milk it is symmetrical for him to milk and consume the female milk/seed to rest ore the balance of his own supply. In this symbolic chemistry it is important to note that blood is the common denominator of both milk and semen. Although bloo d is regarded as a generative fluid associated with many aspects of the body, it is most directly linked to semen and milk. Many young wrestlers who live in fea r of involuntary semen loss express the common belief that one drop of semen is equal to sixty drops of blood (cf. Carstairs 1958; Obeyesekere 1976: 213; OFlaher ty 1980: 36). As pointed out above, the snake represents two aspects of sexualit y: the phallic male and dangerous female. In this capacity, given what has been said about milk and milking, the image of feeding milk to snakes on Nag Panchami can be interpreted in two significant ways. On one level the act of milking is reversed. The phallic snake reingests, as it were, the symbolic semen that it ha s been milked of. As the phallus gives up semen/milk it takes it back in the for m of milk/semen, just as the breast which gives up milk/semen takes in semen/mil k (see Klein 1948 for a discussion of the breast that feeds itself [OFlaherty 1980: 44]). Here the image of Shesha Nag or Ananta, the ouroboros serpent who holds u p the world, provides a clear motif of this sexuality turned in upon itself. Ana ntathe endless oneis depicted as a snake eating or sucking on its own tail: as the m ale and female dimensions of the snake collapse, milk becomes semen and energy m oves in a perpetual circle. It is perfectly symmetrical in this respect that in the Mahabharata version of this myth (Adi-parvan, chap. 36), Ananta is depicted as a sannyaasi who wants nothing more than to delight in righteousness, tranquill ity and asceticism (Vogel 1926: 57). The self-contained, enlightening energy of y ogic kundalini power, likened by some to internal ejaculation, is equivalent, on a symbolic plane, to the alchemical recycling of milk/semen/milk. As OFlaherty h as pointed out, the ouroboros snake is a symbol of the paradoxical Mobius univer se which is infinite but self-contained (1984: 242243). On another level, it must not be forgotten that snakes often represent dangerous female sexuality, and in this capacity poison is one manifestation of female passion. One may argue, I t hink, that poison is the symbolic opposite of milk: it takes life where milk giv es forth life in a number of different ways. As pointed out above, milk is the s ymbolic opposite of erotic passion and in this formulation it is possible to arg ue that feeding milk to snakes functions as a neutralizing agency. Dangerous fem ale passion is cooled and rendered less threatening by the symbolic juxtapositio n of milk and poison. The poison/milk opposition is here a restatement of the su ckling snake motif mentioned above. Sexuality is invoked so as to be controlled. In this regard it is interesting that sannyaasis or yogis, by virtue of their c omplete control over the flow of their seed, are said to have power over snakes (OFlaherty 1973: 279; 1980: 54). They are immune to poison by virtue of the overw helming store of semen they have

accumulated through their devout celibacy. Moreover, yogis are said to be able t o turn poison into seed: to make that which is destructive into a creative force (1980: 54). Wrestlers identify with yogis on many counts, but particularly as r egards their ability to control and channel the flow of semen. In this capacity the image of the milk-drinking snake serves as a motif, albeit reversed, of the alchemy which yogis and wrestlers are meant to effect. Although wrestlers do not necessarily feed milk to snakes, the celebration of wrestling as a way of life on Nag Panchami is the symbolic transformation of destructive poisonous power in to creative physical energy. As has been noted, wrestlers drink enormous quantit ies of milk as part of their diet. Milk is not consumed in a ritualized way as i t is by snakes on Nag Panchami, but nevertheless the parallels are clear. Milk b uilds up a wrestlers semen reserve, but it also cools his passion, just as milk n eutralizes poison. Having built up his supply of semen, however, a wrestler is n ot only able to neutralize the poison of passion; like the sannyaasi, he can tur n poison back into semen. He is supervirile but sexually passive and controlled. Milk contributes directly to this powerful conundrum. Ghi Having already noted the central place of ghi in the wrestlers dietary regimen, we may now consider gh i within the symbolic context of Nag Panchami ritual. In the conceptual framewor k of wrestling, ghi is related to semen in a specific way. Atreya makes the foll owing point: There are many things which are as rich and oily as ghi but they do not have resilience. The semen and strength which is produced from these things is not stable. Ghi is the only thing which can keep your strength up and produce oj [the aura of virility]. The strength that ghi fosters is resilient. It is no t like other things which produce semen only to let it flow to destruction (1984: 23). To a wrestler ghi represents the essence of semen which is held inside the body. This is not the semen of virile passion, it is the semen of physical, mor al and spiritual strength. In the above discussion of milk and snakes, milk was seen to have certain ambiguous qualities: purely female yet symbolic of semen. T his ambiguity translates into various powerful motifs when related to the symbol ic themes of consumption and control. When ghi is taken into account this motif is developed further. Even though ghi is not fed to snakes, the logic of how ghi relates to milk and semen is relevant here. Just as ghi is the distillate of mi lk, its essence, so semen is thought to be the distilled essence of food and blo od (OFlaherty 1980: 49). The guru of Akhaaraa Ram Singh drew a telling analogy. Se men is like ghi, he said. Just like ghi fuels the dias (lamps) of religious worshi p, so does semen fuel the fire of ones own body. Even more so than milk, ghi is

consumed to enhance virility by contributing to ones store of semen (cf. Carstair s 1958: 166; OFlaherty 1980: 52). Although ghi is expressly seminal as it relates to the male body, it is androgynous as a gender symbol: it is the essence of ma sculine potency but, as the distillate of milk, ultimately female (OFlaherty 1980 : 23, 25). The agency associated with the symbolism of milk/semen is the act of milking. In the symbolism of ghi, the agency is also milking (as ghi is drawn ou t of milk [cf. OFlaherty 1980: 29]), but, more significantly, also churning, wher ein milk is made into butter (OFlaherty 1976: 334335; 1980: 28). Churning symbolis m is crucial to an understanding of what ghi means as an androgynous symbol. Whe reas to a certain extent milking refers to sexual union and the drawing out of e ssence, churning, more often than not, refers to unilateral creation wherein a m ale or female brings forth life by churning their own fluids (OFlaherty 1976: 3333 34). Even in instances where churning is taken as a metaphor for coitus, the ima ge employed is of mixing together, not milking out or taking essence away. Signi ficantly, the metaphor of milking implies only a transfer of substance, whereas churning clearly demands a change of substance, but without addition or subtract ion. In this respect, then, milk symbolizes either male or female seed, whereas ghi represents a kind of mutated androgynous fluid that is potent but asexual in the sense of already having been churned. In the Mahabharata it is significant that churning is associated with creation. More to the point, however, the ocean of milk, which is churned to bring forth life, is the substance of unilateral c reation which flows endlessly from the udder of the earth-cow (OFlaherty 1980: 43 ). To churn the ocean the gods use a parallel symbol of contained sexualityAnanta , the endless snake. In a number of the mythic references to unilateral procreat ion the child is born through the agency of thigh rubbing or thigh churning. For instance, Aurva is born from Urvas thigh (OFlaherty 1980: 227). OFlaherty also poi nts out that the symbolism of thigh churning is related, etymologically, to chur ning butter from milk (ibid: 28). What is significant about thigh churning is th at it alludes to the power of sexual potency without calling into play any form of overt sexual agency. Intercourse is preempted. Thus, with regard to wrestlers and ascetics, for whom asexuality is a physicomoral virtue, the power of sexual ity is clearly recognized while chastity itself is never threatened. Mythic refe rence to thigh churning suggests an intriguing parallel with wrestling. While wr estlers are concerned with the size of their body as a whole, they place a great deal of importance on the size of their thighs. This is particularly significan t since wrestlers place absolutely no positive value on the size of their genita lia. In fact, wrestlers who have larger genitalia than others are considered som ewhat deviant and are suspected of promiscuity and unchecked passion. In express ing a wrestlers stature a person gestures the girth of the wrestlers thigh with hi s outstretched hands. More significantly, wrestlers slap their thighs as an aggr essive gesture

presaging a bout. They rub their thighs while exercising. (In two akhaaraas I vi sited thigh slapping is prohibited, ostensibly because it aggressively challenge s the founding guru to a wrestling bout, but also, on a symbolic level, because it brings sexuality too close to the akhaaraa precinct.) One might interpret thi s thigh slapping/rubbing/measuring as penis fixation except for the fact that th e manipulation of ones thigh is an act of androgynous agency while the manipulati on of ones penis is, even in the instance of masturbation, a directed act of sexu ality which is, by definition, only half of a whole: either heterosexual or homo sexual but never androgynous. As representing androgynous sexual energy, ghi ser ves as a neutral source of energy. It contains the vital shakti of sexualityboth male and femalewithout posing any real threat of erotic destruction. Milk, associ ated clearly with women, is implicated in contrasted sexuality: either male or f emale. As a distillate of milk, ghi collapses the contrast of sexual opposition. Metaphorically, a wrestler can rub his thighs all he wants, for churning repres ents self-contained energy, not energy spent. The case of the two akhaaraas whic h prohibit thigh slapping serves as an exception which seems to support the rule . While milk and milk products are generally regarded as cool in the hot/cold para digm of food classification, ghi is regarded by many wrestlers as the essence of coolness. I was told that a person suffering from intoxication, sunstroke, or madn ess ought to be fed ghi as this would counteract the heat causing the particular malady. I asked if milk or cream also had the same effect and was told, emphatic ally, no. Cream in particular aggravates intoxication by enraging ones passion. I t is interesting that snakes are not fed ghi. The reason, I think, is that ghi w ould, in a symbolic sense, neutralize the dual sexuality of snakes. In contrast to ghi, milk can be either male semen or female seed, but never both at once. Th us a snake drinking milk symbolizes the resolution of opposites. Ghi by itself, having been churned from milk also represents this same opposition but without r eference to the poisonous, dangerous aspect of sexuality. Ghi is in essence symb olically equivalent to Ananta, the endless ascetic snake. For a snake to drink g hi, therefore, would be to mix metaphors and render the act redundant at best an d at worst meaningless. Ghi would, in effect, cool the snakes passion but with a n end result of impotence rather than contained virility. In the instances where ghi is associated with snakes one is more likely to find that it is juxtaposed to venom spent (unleashed passion) rather than to the latent sexuality symbolize d by the poison inside the snake. The poison of latent sexuality is, more often than not, juxtaposed against milk. Poison spent must be rendered harmless, while passion held in check must be contained and regenerated. Wrestlers drink milk, but this does not mean that they are snakelike in their character. The motif of the milk-drinking snake in effect represents the logic of the wrestlers own body of contained sexuality. The snake is a sign of the wrestlers latent passion while the milk the snake drinks is the wrestlers semen. Turned in itself, passion beco mes power and virtue rather than lust and greed. As has been argued, ghi duplica tes this imagery without reference to the snake agency. Unlike a snake a wrestle r can drink ghi without cooling his passion to the point of impotence. This is b ecause he drinks ghi to enrich his semen, an act

which symbolically preempts the whole issue of sexuality since ghi is never suck ed up or milked out. It is only mixed in with or churned out from milk. As the g uru of Akhaaraa Ram Singh explained, ghi fuels the internal fire of the wrestlers body. Milk can be consumed and retained to build semen, but it can just as easi ly flow and be sucked out. Ghi is more resilient and therefore a more apt symbol of asexual, non-erotic virility. Almonds Along with buckets of milk and large v olumes of ghi, wrestlers eat enormous quantities of almonds. Almonds are clearly masculine, for they are to the male seed as milk is to female creativity. Almon ds are used in making pharmaceutical cures for the night emission of semen (Ramsan ehi Dixit n.d.: 13). However, most references to the almonds curing agency focus on mental disorders rather than on illnesses with an overtly somatic sexual mani festation: impotency, premature ejaculation, and the like (ibid: 1120). In this r egard there is an interesting parallel suggested between almonds and semen. Seme n is said to be located in a reservoir in the head (Carstairs 1958: 86; OFlaherty 1980: 46; Spratt 1966: 91, 9596). I am not qualified to speak on the medical dim ension of this correlation, but the symbolism is suggestive on an overt level. I n many instances a person who engages in too much illicit sex is regarded as men tally unstable, and the telltale symptoms are, among other things, sunken eyes a nd a pallid complexion. I think it is clear that the eyes are sunken and the com plexion pallid because the head has been drained of semen. The almonds play some role in restoring mental stability by revitalizing the reservoir. Wrestlers pre pare almonds in a way which is also suggestive of this symbolic equation between semen and almonds. Along with the stereotype of the milk-drinking wrestler is t he almond-grinding wrestler, who spends hours with mortar and pestle (a strong s exual symbol in its own right) mashing his almonds into a thick, rich, golden pa ste. He mixes this paste with honey and milk and drinks it as a postpractice ton ic. At some akhaaraas mashing almonds is done in tandem with the preparation of bhang (hashish). Almonds and bhang are often prepared in the same way insofar as bhang has to be smashed and ground into a paste. Many non-wrestlers associate b hang and the preparation of bhang paste with akhaaraas. In this context, bhang a nd almonds are often associated with one another. The two pastes are occasionall y drunk together when diluted and mixed into a potion called thandai. (Thandai c an also refer to any cool drink made of mixed substances, usually milk, nuts, an d fruits.) Popular stereotypes aside, wrestlers have a somewhat ambivalent attit ude towards bhang (Negi 1987). A number of them said that bhang is used by wrest lers for the same reason

that it is used by ascetics: to control desire. While it may be true that many a scetics use bhang in order to enhance their divine passion, rather than inhibit sexuality, wrestlers do not put much credence in this interpretation. One wrestl er said that bhang calms and focuses a persons mind. The problem with bhang, howe ver, is that it has recreational uses which can undermine self-control. As many wrestlers pointed out, bhang can be dangerous because it makes one lazy, idle, a nd self-absorbed. One becomes listless rather than strong. If used properly, how ever, bhang is a substance that subverts passion, and in this capacity it is ass ociated with akhaaraas. It is quite possible, as both Lynch (1990: 103, 104) and Kumar (1988: 112, 113) have pointed out, that the consumption of bhang in akhaa raas is also an aspect of other ideals, namely the shauk (hobby or passion) of a ffected leisure which is part of Banarsi culture, or the passionate mastram iden tity of Mathura Chaubes. However, most serious wrestlers look on this as a recre ational and therefore dubious use of bhang. In any case, where almonds are assoc iated with bhang, one has, once again, an instance of sexual power generated on the one hand while held in check on the other. A bhang and almond thandai is ess entially the same thing as ghi: extremely potent but very resilient and stable. Drinking the thandai potion, a wrestler affects the same motif of the milk-drink ing snake. I have never heard a wrestler draw a parallel between almond paste an d semen, but given the overarching concern wrestlers have with sexualitythe congr uent symbolism of milk and ghi, the clear imagery of mortar and pestle, the impl icit correlation between an almond seed/nut and the procreative male seed, and f inally, the juxtaposition of bhang and almondsit is possible to say that almond s ymbolism contributes to the more explicit themes of contained sexuality which st ructure the conceptual framework of the akhaaraa. Earth While ghi and almonds ar e not explicitly linked to snakes and Nag Panchami ritual, the underlying symbol ic parallels are very clear: sexual energy turned in upon itself in a motif of c ontained, recycled essence. A consideration of the symbolic properties of earth in general and akhaaraa earth specifically returns us to the snake motif in wres tling life. One need not stretch the imagination to appreciate the association s nakes have with the earth. They live in holes in the ground and by virtue of bei ng legless are seen as close to the earth in a literal and metaphoric sense. The monsoon rains bring the snakes out of the earth by flooding their holes. Vogel has pointed out that Kadru, the mother of the Nag race of snakes, is a personifi cation of the earth (1926: 20). In this formulation, snakes are the sons of the e arth. As described by Fuller (1944) and Maity (1963), people (and in particular w omen) worship anthills on Nag Panchami. As protrusions of earth, anthills are re garded as the homes of snakes. Moreover, given the phallic connotation of snakes , and

their symbolic association with lingams, one may surmise that anthills are phall ic. However, anthills may also represent breasts, since the earth is regarded as the life-giving mother. In this motif the snake represents the latent sexuality of the nourishing mother: the poison in the breast. Finally, snakes are associa ted with the earth through their cosmic role. At the behest of Brahma (Mahabhara ta, Adi-parvan, chap. 36), Ananta burrowed into the ground so as to hold up the Earth. There seems to be clear evidence that a theme of fertility links snakes w ith the earth. Maity (1963), citing Barth (1932) and James (1959), suggests that snakes in general are associated with cultivation and harvest. Plowing is prohi bited on Nag Panchami since a snakes death might render ones fields infertile. Cit ing the Rig Veda (1.160.3), OFlaherty has pointed out that the earth is often com pared to a cow full of milk, while heaven is conceived of as a bull with seed (1 980: 24). The earth is a cow from whom all good things come, and the milk of thi s cow is female seed (ibid: 250). As OFlaherty points out elsewhere (ibid: 108), th e earth is a dominant female. This is not surprising, given the common maternal imagery associated with the earth. As the quintessential mother, the earth is ag gressively protective as well as nurturing. The earth as fertile female makes se nse in the context of Nag Panchami. Monsoon rain, associated with Nag and with s emen, impregnates the earth by mixing with the female seed. In this regard a pas sage from the Harivamsa is telling: The smell which emitted from earth due to the seasons first rainfall stimulated in men the desire for union (chap. 66, Bose n.d .). As pointed out above, fresh new earth is brought into many akhaaraas on Nag Panchami. This earth, though not special in any ritual respect is, significantly , brought to the pit either from fields or from the bottom of dried-out ponds. T hus it is eminently fertile earth. In the case of pond silt it is linked to the water aspect of Nag. Wrestlers speak of the akhaaraa earth in very maternal term s. It is nurturing, comforting, and protective. Wrestling in the akhaaraa is lik ened to a child playing in his mothers lap. When a wrestler is initiated into an akhaaraa five of the prasad laddus are buried in the pit as a gesture of respect to the nurturing mother in whose lap the wrestlers grow. Atreya writes: Nothing c an compare to the comfort of a mothers lap, but a mothers lap is only a fraction a s comfortable as the lap of mother earth: the akhaaraa. The love of mother earth is consistent and never changes. The more that one loves mother earth the happier one will be. Mother earth absorbs all of your troubles and leaves you in a state of b liss. One who is not close to the earth does not have the strength to fight off illness. Nothing can compare with the comfort of mother earths lap (1972b: 33). The term god (lap) has the connotation of womb. When wrestlers massage themselves w ith earth and let the earth draw out the toxins from their bodies they achieve a childlike state

which complements the earths maternity. In this regard the general aura of the ak haaraa as self-contained and peaceful contributes to the overall maternal symbol ism. The earth of the akhaaraa is regarded by wrestlers as a cure-all. Based on Ayurvedic healing practices it is used to cure skin diseases, stomach ailments, headaches, and a host of other maladies. On a purely symbolic level, the idea of healing relates directly to the idea of the earth as caring mother. One aspect of earths healing properties is of direct interest here. Atreya (ibid: 23) and th e editor of Akhare ki Or(H. B. Singh 1972: 3) both mention that akhaaraa earth i s a sure cure for snakebite. As an aspect of the hot/cold paradigm, earth is reg arded as cool and it draws out heat from the body. Poison is a very hot fluid an d thus can be drawn out of the body if the person bitten by a snake (or rabid do g, wasp, caterpillar, etc.) is covered with earth. In mythology mother earth is associated with a cow full of milk. The juxtaposition of cool earth with hot poi son is a repetition of the pervasive theme of contained sexuality. On Nag Pancha mi, when wrestlers play in their mothers lap, they are acting out, in a sense, the cooling of passion: the control of their sexual energy. If sexual energy were no t controlled one could argue that the wrestlers are dramatizing a repressed sexu al desire for their mothers. If this were the case, however, wrestlers would be weakened by their contact with the earth rather than rejuvenated by it. On a con scious level, at least, the image of mother earth is primarily nurturing rather than sexual. All sexual feelings are transferred out of the akhaaraa onto women in their non-maternal, dangerous aspect. Mother earth is the supreme mother in t he sense that no bad maternal qualities are attributed to her. The milk never st ops flowing from her breasts. For the wrestler the akhaaraa earth is the perfect nurturing mother in whose lap he plays as a forever virginal, non-sexual child. As Atreya writes, He who has enjoyed the pleasure of the earth will feel that wo rldly sensual pleasures pale in comparison. They seem base and cheap (1972b: 30). Since the worldly pleasures of the flesh pale in comparison to the metaphysical and maternal pleasures of the earth, it is not surprising that the wrestler is not only compared to a child but also to a sannyaasi: It is important to remembe r that a wrestlers strength must be passive and latent rather than aggressive. Th e wrestler who turns to the earth is a true ascetic, a true saint and a true yog i. In one Banaras akhaaraa near Sankat Mochan temple I was fortunate enough to m ake the acquaintance of an 80-year-old man who said that he had achieved self-re alization by exercising in the earth. He said that rolling in the earth was an a ct of devotion which had given him spiritual happiness (ibid: 32). While the pri mary relationship of the wrestlers body to the akhaaraa earth is one of passive n onsexuality, there is, nevertheless, a concept of substance exchange. Wrestlers draw on the energy of the earth and they give back to the earth the energy which flows from their bodies. There is an exchange of substance but no idea of impre gnation. Milk products are mixed into the earth of the akhaaraa for the same rea son that milk products are often fed to a pregnant woman; namely, so that she wi ll give birth to a son (cf. OFlaherty 1980: 28).

The mother changes milk into seminal fluid which contributes to her childs growth and development. It is significant that the nurturing fluid is semen made from milk. In this formulation semen nurtures and fosters growth. It is a potent and procreative substance but not an impregnating fluid. What a wrestler draws from the soil is the generalized energy of semen in the non-sexual symbolic form of m others milk/seed. Along these lines it is interesting to note that in rituals of royal coronation kings are often besmeared with mud (Inden 1978; Marglin 1982). This is variously interpreted as the kings marriage to the earth or his impregnat ion of the earth. The king fertilizes the earth and thereby insures prosperity i n his realm. Significantly, however, the king also draws power from the earth. M arglin has interpreted this as the king taking on the female power of the earth (1982: 171). In other words, the flow of substance is to some extent reciprocal in both kingly coronation and in the akhaaraa. Sweat from the wrestlers body is a lso mixed into the akhaaraa earth and is regarded as an important and beneficial ingredient. As OFlaherty has pointed out (1980: 39), in some contexts sweat is a symbolic substitute for semen. In mythology, however, sweat does not impregnate , but brings forth life unilaterally. When wrestlers sweat the interpretation th ey offer is that they are contributing to the general fertility of the soil. The ir sweat mixes with the essence of the earth. Just as the earth gives up its mil k/semen essence to build the wrestlers body, so the wrestler returns his semen/sw eat essence to mother earth. He does this, however, in an explicitly non-sexual way: as the male symbolic equivalent of mothers milk. As the mother feeds the chi ld so the child feeds the mother. This sets up a cyclical, non-sexual transfer o f fluids which endlessly produces semen through reciprocal exchange. Of the few instances in which akhaaraa earth is used for anything other than wrestling or h ealing it is used, significantly, in a ritual where a bride is prepared for marr iage. This is the only instance where women are allowed into the akhaaraa precin ct. Women come to the akhaaraa (usually in the middle of the day when there are few wrestlers present) and take some of the earth out of the pit, mix it with wa ter, and slap it on the brides back as she sits in a corner of the akhaaraa. I wa s never given an interpretation of this ritual, but I think it is clear that the bride is being symbolically associated with both milk and semen: with the power of sexuality and impending motherhood. The bride is the symbolic opposite of th e wrestler. She draws on the vitality and fertility of the sweat saturated earth in a ritualized context which is clearly sexual. She is not nurtured: she is sy mbolically impregnated. At the same time, however, she is anointed with the esse nce of mother earth and thereby takes on the qualities of a good mother-to-be. R egardless, it is significant that the bride takes substance out of the akhaaraa and does not put anything backthere is no symbolic parallel here of the wrestlers sweat. In and of itself this breaks the conundrum of contained sexuality by disa ssociating semen from milk, maternity from sexuality. The sexuality which the br ide introduces into the akhaaraa through her presence is tolerated by wrestlers only because of the parallel motif of maternity. Even so, on the few instances w here I saw women take earth from the pit, the wrestlers moved well back and disa ssociated themselves from what the women were doing.

Psychologically speaking, I think that what is going on here is quite clear. In the pit the child wrestler has, to some extent, succeeded in having his cakeor gh iand eating it too. He has managed to reconcile a deep emotional bond to the good mother (Kakar 1981, 1990) with a nondebilitating release of sexual energy. Emot ionally the akhaaraa substitutes for both mother and wife; and in the same way t he wrestler is an emotional synthesis of progenitor and progeny. In fact, I thin k that the substitution/synthesis is further effected on another level on which the wrestler is androgynous. Wrestlers, after all, only play in their mothers lap; who they play with is other wrestlers. On an emotional level at least, the cosmo logy of akhaaraa life affords a homosexual solution to a pervasive cultural ambi valence with regard to heterosexual relations in general and mother-son relation s in particular, where the son is unable to cope with the powerful sexual demand s made by the mother (cf. Kakar 1981: 95). In other situations a cultural soluti on to this psychological problem is found in symbolic and ritual self-castration in the context of mother goddess worship (Nanda 1990: 34). Nanda has found that hijras take this logic to its ultimate conclusion in a ritual of actual emascul ation whereby the young man becomes neither man nor woman, thereby subverting his own male sexuality and appeasing his mother (ibid: 2432). Although wrestlers are in many ways the antithesis of hijras, they too find psychological comfort in a ritualized synthesis of gender roles. Where the wrestler and the hijra part ways , however, is on the issue of emasculation; to deny male sexuality would be to u ndermine the source of physical strength, and so the wrestler effects a relation ship of close physical contact with other men in order to circumvent the danger of female sexuality. To be sure, wrestlers do not engage in homosexual sex any m oreand probably lessthan they do in heterosexual sex. In this regard wrestling wit h another man is like rubbing thighs or feeding milk to snakes. Trees The trees of an akhaaraa are in many ways associated with snakes and themes of fertility. Three trees in particular grow in akhaaraa compounds: pipal (Ficus religiosa), b anyan (Ficus indica) and nim (melia azadirachta). All of these trees have genera l religious significance in Hindu ritual (cf. Crooke 1926: 400419; Enthovan 1924: 117127; Pandey 1964; Philpot 1897; S. N. Roy 1931), but here the concern is only with their relation to two main symbols relating to Nag Panchami: milk and snak es. Crooke (1926: 407) points out that the pipal tree is revered because it exud es a milky substance. Although snakes are said to populate many types of tree, t he pipal is regarded as particularly suited for snakes to live in. They are thou ght to live entwined in its roots (H. Zimmer 1946: 72). Snakes are also regarded as part of the pipal because its branches are associated with Shiva, and Shiva is said to be adorned with snakes (Crooke 1926: 384,

407). Given that pipals exude a milky sap and are associated with snakes, it is not surprising that they are regarded, in some instances, as sources of fertilit y. Crooke reports that women circumambulate special pipal trees in order to gain fertility (ibid: 408). Women in Banaras wrap threads around the base of pipal tre es and light lamps among the roots as an act of supplication or as fulfillment o f a vow for a boon of fertility (cf. Enthovan 1924m: 119). One of the pipal tree s at Akhaaraa Ram Singh is occasionally used for this purpose. Along with the pi pal tree, the banyan is also regarded as a dwelling place of snakes (cf. Maity 1 963: 128; Hastings 1979: 417). The banyans aerial roots which hang down and coil around each other are regarded as serpentine. Crooke points out that these roots are associated with the matted hair of sannyaasis. The matted hair of sannyaasi s symbolizes not only snakes but also the reserve of semen which sannyaasis are said to store in their heads (OFlaherty 1980). According to Enthovan (1924: 120) the banyan tree, like the pipal, is associated with Shiva. Being of the same fig family of tree as the pipal, the banyan also exudes a milky sap. One wrestler s aid that the new fruit of a banyanwhich is about two inches long and red with a w hite tipcan be broken off and eaten. Many claim it to be more nutritious than a g lass of milk. In Bombay, Crooke reports (1926: 407), women fast and pray to bany an trees on the full moon of Jyeshth (MayJune) in order to preserve themselves fr om widowhood. This theme is echoed in the story recounted by Enthovan (1924: 120 ) where Satyavan died of a snakebite under a banyan tree. He was brought back to life by his wifes entreaties to Yama, the god of death (cf. Rakesh 1986: 4345). T he banyan in this story is associated with life in general and fertility specifi cally. On a few occasions people would come to Akhaaraa Ram Singh and ask to tak e some of the leaves of a large banyan to use as ritual ingredients. While the b anyan and the pipal are associated with snakes and fertility through their milky sap, the nim tree is juxtaposed to snakes by virtue of its power to cure venomo us bites (Crooke 1926: 391, 410; Enthovan 1924: 137140). The nim is not an antido te to poison but it is nevertheless a purifying, purgative agent. Its bitterness is regarded as symbolically parallel to poison. If a person can eat bitter nim leaves he is said to be cured. Zimmer mentions that images of snakes are often s et up under pipal and nim trees and that these two trees are regarded as a marri ed couple since they often grow on the same ground (1946: 72). Pipal milk is als o used for curing snakebites (R. Sharma n.d.: 6) but in a different way from the nim; pipal milk draws poison out while the bitter nim leaves neutralize venom. In its curing capacity pipal milk acts like mothers milk whereas the nim fights f ire with fire. While alike in some respects, the milky sap of the pipal may thus also be juxtaposed to the bitterness of the nim. If the trees are regarded as a matching pair than there is a symbolic reconciliation of opposites. Through thi s opposition it becomes logical for snakes to be regarded as comfortably entwine d in their roots. If one considers pipal, banyan, and nim trees together, one is struck by the fam iliar opposition between milk/fertility and poison/danger which is but another a rticulation of

the general theme of milk-drinking snakes. The bitter nim is juxtaposed to the l ife-giving sap of the pipal and banyan. In this respect the tree triad underscor es the overall theme of controlled sexuality in the akhaaraa. One may see, in th is triptych scheme, the power of fertility without any real threat of unleashed erotic passion. As a final note in this regard let us consider the healing prope rties of nim, pipal, and banyan trees. All three trees have important curative q ualities (cf. Ramsanehi Dixit 1967a; R. Sharma n.d.) and are used as ingredients in numerous remedies (Sen 1985). All three trees, however, are used to treat se xual disorders in men and women. This is not surprising, for many herbs and mine rals in India are used for treating illnesses relating to impotency, semen loss, and infertility (Gotham 1983). However, given that the trees grow on akhaaraa g roundsand, as pointed out earlier, they mix their essence with the earth, water, and wind of the compoundone may assume that there is a tacit symbolic association between the trees essence and the charged sexuality of the earth, the water, and the body of the wrestler. The sap of the pipal can help cure semen loss and inc rease the flow of milk from a womans breast; the milky fruit of the banyan can re invigorate an impotent person; and the leaves of a nim can make a man virile and bring milk to a womans breast. In every instance the remedies derived from these trees build up semen in men and either cause milk to flow in women or enhance f ertility in general. In this regard the milk of the banyan and the pipal can be used as a substitute for cows milk (Atreya 1986a: 50). Exercise Nag Panchami is n ot only a public display of wrestling as a particular way of life, but also a ge neral celebration of exercise, physical fitness, and strength. In Banaras on Nag Panchami akhaaraas sometimes put on demonstrations of strength. Wrestlers lift heavy weights and swing large joris and gadas. In the context of this discussion of snakes, milk, and fertility, one may interpret the exercises which wrestlers do in terms of contained sexuality and displaced passion. A gada is a large rou nd rock fixed to the end of a meter-long bamboo staff which is lifted and swung for exercise. It may weigh as little as five or as much as fifty to sixty kilogr ams. In the Ramayana and Mahabharata the gada is often mentioned as a weapon. In popular religious art and iconography Hanuman is almost never depicted without one. It is not only the symbol of his strength but also of his countenance. The gada he carries is highly decorated and made of gold. At championship bouts wres tlers are awarded gadas made of silver. The gada is, then, clearly the mark of a wrestlers prowess. Given the preponderance of phallic symbols in the akhaaraa an d the gadas general shape it is evident that swinging a gada has clear symbolic o vertones of sexual potency and virility. Each time the gada is swung it is broug ht to a balanced position, erect from the wrestlers waist.

The phallic aspect of the gada is also evidenced by its association with snakes. In the Harivamsa(chap. 83) Akrura dives into the serpent world where he sees An anta asleep on top of a mace (Vogel 1926: 92). As the manifestation of Baladev, t he mace carrier, Shesha Nag is also often depicted carrying a mace in one of his four arms (ibid: 196). In shape a gada resembles the churning stick used to make butter and buttermilk. A parallel between churning and sexual energy has been d rawn above. By swinging the gada one might say that a wrestler is churning his b ody to increase his store of semen. Joris are swung like gadas but they come in pairs weighing between ten and forty kilograms each. Joris are often decorated w ith colorful designs, and many akhaaraas have special pairs which are brought ou t only on such occasions as Nag Panchami and Guru Puja. In contrast to gadas, jo ris are namedthe white pair, the shiny ones, the thorny ones, the flowery ones, the inous ones (many are named after a particular person who either made them, commis sioned them to be made or swung them the most number of times). While gadas have clear phallic qualities, joris symbolize breasts (recognizing, of course, that breast and phallic symbols are highly mutable and multivocal to the point of bei ng almost interchangeable). Not only do joris come in pairs, they are also swung from an inverted position with the wrestler holding firmly onto the titlike han dle-grip as though he were milking a cow or buffalo. If churning is the dominant metaphor of swinging a gada, milking is associated with swinging a pair of jori s. Most of the wrestlers in Banaras are dairy farmers, and so the motifs of milk ing and churning are particularly appropriate. In fact, milking itself is referr ed to as an exercise by many young wrestlers who brag that they can milk ten or fifteen buffalos without tiring. In this instance the motif clearly refers to mi lk as a female substance which contributes to the development of male semen. One of the most important exercises in a wrestlers regime involves digging the pit. The wrestling pit is dug with a pharsa (a short, heavy hoe) in much the same way that a field would be plowed. That is, a person digs the pit into furrows. A gr eat deal of emphasis is placed on making the pit look like a well-cared-for fiel d. I asked a number of wrestlers if there was not a contradiction in the fact th at digging is prohibited on Nag Panchami while it is an integral part of pit pre paration for the akhaaraa festivities. I was told that there was no contradictio n; the implication being, I think, that plowing is an overt act of planting or p utting seed into the earth so as to take substance out. Digging the pit, on the other hand, enriches the soil by mixing things in. It is true that wrestlers dra w strength from the soil but they are never seen as violating the earth. On a sy mbolic level they never pose a threat to the snakes potency. The wrestler is to t he earth as a child, while the snakeas cloud, rain, and lightningis emblematic of the sky father. A wrestler never challenges the virility of the snake but turns instead as a child to his mothers lap. All feelings of sexual attraction, either towards the mother or against the father, are sublimated beneath a symbolic cloa k of non-sexual virility. It is not a question of who has sexual access to (or

repressed desire for) whom, but of how sex itself can be held in check. The digg ing of the earth, as with many of the other symbols discussed here, represents t he potential of sexual power turned into nurturing growth. Once the earth of the akhaaraa pit is dug it is smoothed out by harnessing a wrestler to a flat log w hich he drags around the pit behind him. In this exercise wrestlers are compared , through association with draft oxen, to bulls (see plate 15). Bulls are ubiqui tous in Banaras and although they go on rampages and can be dangerous they are g enerally regarded as non-aggressive. They are, however, the very embodiment of s trength and brute force. While associated with Shiva, the bull in Hindu mytholog y is not a symbol of phallic aggression or erotic desire. As OFlaherty points out , the bull represents controlled, passive sexuality: the inverse of Shivas potent sexuality. The bull is virility held in check on two fronts: by Shivas ascetic pow er on one hand and on the other by the mother (cow) who overwhelms and blocks the impulses of the bull (1980: 253). The bull is, then, the perfect image of the wr estler whose passion, like that of the snake, is cooled by mother milk, and whos e seed is never spent. One of the most common metaphors used to describe a wrest lers strength is to compare him to the oxen who draw huge leather buckets of wate r out of rural irrigation wells. These wells are sunk deep into the ground. An i ncline is built for the oxen to walk up and down as they pull the water up on a cantilevered pulley. Again, the motif of the impregnating bull is reversed, as i t were, and instead the bull-like wrestler harnesses himself to the rope and dra ws out the life-giving milk/water fluids of the earth. Not coincidentally, the o x, as a castrated bull, is here associated with fertility and strength but not s exuality. Conclusion In this chapter I have sought to interpret some of the domi nant symbols in the culture of wrestling in order to understand why wrestlers re gard Nag Panchami as an important festival. My argument is that Nag Panchami sym bolizes contained sexuality, either as the seed turned in on itself wherein the symbiotic energies of milk and semen merge, or as erotic snake passion cooled by milk. In either case non-sexual virility is the dominant motif in a wrestlers li fe. On Nag Panchami when wrestlers mix buttermilk into the akhaaraa earth, when they play in their mothers lap, and when they show off their nurtured bodies, they are, in essence, dramatizing the efficacy of celibacy. In their own terms they a re enacting what it means to feed milk to snakes.

7. Wrestling Tournaments and the Bodys Recreation At Ravanas face the vanar sprang , Snatched from his head the kingly crown And dashed it in his fury down Straigh t at his foe the giant flew, His mighty arms around him threw, With strength res tless swung him round And dashed him panting to the ground, Unharmed amid the st orm of blows Swift to his feet Sugriva arose. Again in furious fight they met; W ith streams of blood their arms were wet, Each grasping his opponents waist. Thus with their branches interlaced, Which, crimson with the flowers of spring, From side to side the breezes swing, In furious wrestle you may see, The Kinsuk and the Seemal tree. Introduction Given the rich and textured quality of wrestling a s a way of life and the fact that wrestlers are concerned with a dramatic presen tation of self, I fully expected to find that wrestling tournaments would be, to paraphrase Geertz, an Indian reading of Indian experience: a story they tell the mselves about themselves (1973: 448). Anyone who writes about public sport perfor mance does so in the shadow of Geertzs seminal article on the cockfight, in which Geertz effectively reoriented the anthropological inquiry away from questions o f social utility and function toward issues of contextual meaning. Taking this p erspective while reflecting on the meaning of a wrestling dangal, one is led to ask not whose interests are being served or what social function fulfilled, but rather what story is being told through a staged contest of skill and strength. Like the Balinese cockfight, Indian wrestling dangals may be read as texts. They are interpretive templates which provide a framework for making sense of cultur al experience. However, while the cockfight is a studied microcosm of things Bali nesestatus, honor, propriety, hierarchy, masculinity and antibestialitythe dangal s eems to defy any like characterization for the Indian scene. In Geertzs reading, the cockfight seems to elaborate meaning through the operation of symbolic drama tization. Dangals, on the other hand, seem to strip meaning down to essentials, to first principles.

Consequently, one of the most surprising things about dangals is that they are n ot ripe with symbolic significanceas is the case with Nag Panchami and the akhaar aabut are in fact thin where one would most expect to find elements for thick descr iption. Building on this theme, I will here offer an interpretation of the danga l in order to explain what it says about wrestling in particular and also about Hindu Indian society in general. Set against the textured aesthetic of the akhaa raa, the intricate regime of day to day life, the charged relationship between p atron, guru, and wrestler, and the symbolic world brought to life on Nag Pancham i, the dangal is a one-dimensional, abbreviated event. This is not to say that i t is insignificant or marginal in any sense. Wrestlers take tournaments very ser iously. Moreover, for the majority of the non-wrestling public the dangal is syn onymous with wrestling. It is the most visible and public aspect of the sport. T he dangal is a focal point in the matrix of wrestling, for it is where a wrestle r can make a name for himself as both a champion and as one who has lived up to the ideals of a rigorous way of life. In the context of the akhaaraa, the wrestl ers identity is subsumed within the larger rubric of wrestling. His individualityh is public identity and unique biographyis less important than the fact that he li ves by a strict code and subscribes to certain values. As noted, the body of the wrestler is objectified and symbolically reified on the occasion of Nag Pancham i in particular. This situation is reversed in the arena of the dangal. When in the competitive pit, a wrestler stands alone as the distilled essence of his way of life. He stands alone with his own background, his own unique history of suc cess and failure, his own strength and skill, and his own style and technique. T he dangal is a synoptic outline of wrestling as a way of life. All of the import ant elements are encoded in the act of competition and tournament organization, but it is as though they appear in a shorthand version of their more vivid and p oetic guise as elaborated in other contexts. In this respect, but certainly only as a metaphoric equivalent, the dangal functions much as a dream, for, as Freud has noted, dreams are charged with epic significance even though they are brief, meager and laconic (1967: 313). What I mean by this is that in the dangal the co ncept of brahmacharya, say, is reduced to a singular aspect of strength. In the larger akhaaraa context it is the multivocal nexus of character elaborated throu gh the symbolic significance of such things as ghi, snakes, and milk. Similarly, when the guru and the patron are present at a dangal they take a back seat to t he wrestler who is, for the duration of the bout, dramatically at center stage. They are shown respect, but it is a pale reflection of the kind of respect that is idealized and ritualized in other situations. While considered pure, the eart h of the dangal pit seems only to allude to the purer essence of the akhaaraa as emblematic of Hanuman and mother earth, and saturated with energy and fertility . This synoptic aspect of dangals goes hand in hand with the emblematic individu ality of the competitive wrestler. In a short story about a fictional, famous Or issan wrestler, Mohanty describes the moment just preceding the bout: At that mom ent, Jaga Palei became a symbol, the symbol of glory and the fulfillment of the hopes and aspirations of the Oriya

People. A sea of people surged forward to greet him, to meet the heretofore unkn own, unheard-of wrestler (1979: 28). Mohantys story ends with Jaga Palei going dow n in ignominious defeat. He is forgotten even more quickly than his momentary fa me had spread, and he returns in ignominy to his akhaaraa to exercise, eat, and carry on with his way of life. For a brilliant moment he stands alone, only to f all back onto a regime which is as comfortably depersonalized as it is strictly disciplined. A similar, though harsher, situation obtains in Ruskin Bonds story Th e Garland on his Brow. Hassan, a young wrestler from Dehra Dun, is described by B ond as a godlike man with a chest as broad as the base of a pipal tree (1967: 15 1). Hassan achieves tremendous success in dangal competition. Basking in the her oic glory of his success he is first admired, then hired and finally seduced by a local princess. When the princess dies, Hassan is left with nothing but his sl owly sagging body and the memories of his youthful past. Bonds story begins well into Hassans demise, for we are first introduced to the wrestler not as a hero bu t as the decrepit beggar he had become. In the final scene Hassan is found dead in a gutter beneath a culvert with his body, once radiant with the aura of akhaa raa earth, now covered with sores and mud. Dangal heroics are treated in both of these stories with a high degree of ambivalence. These being the only two works of fiction I have been able to find on wrestling, it is remarkable that pathos, rather than some more straightforward emotion, is used to describe the wrestlers life. Itis as if to say that magnified strength and divine virtue must ultimate ly succumb to banal, mortal terms. The conceit of physique cannot preempt the mo re basic form of a rudimentary biology; it cannot stand alone. There is a subtle shift of orientation when the wrestler steps out of the akhaaraa and into the d angal. In the akhaaraa a wrestlers individuality is subsumed within the larger id eology of his way of life: he is one disciple among many. In the dangal the ideo logy serves to bolster the individual identity of the wrestler if only through d issimilation. What I have in mind here is the symbolic logic which links, in the mind of all concerned, the moral virtue of devotion, for example, to the expres sion of concentration on all wrestlers faces, and this, in turn, to the particula r skill of the local champion: Jaga Palei, Gunga Pahalwaan, Ram Sevak, or any ot her great wrestler. The dangal is able to effect an immediate and meaningful lin k between the general and the specific, between ideology and identity. Clearly t his is a matter of perspective rather than a reified dichotomy. There is a didac tic tension between the general aura of ideology on the one hand and graphic her oic individuality on the other. In effect, the dangal stands in relation to wres tling ideology in a textualized formulation of Victor Turners structure/antistruc ture dialectic. The wrestler, and also those who watch the bout, slide through t he experience of liminalityhere the communitas of dangal experienceas a kind of so cial therapy of revitalization (1969: 129). Through juxtaposition and particular ization, the dangal serves to reaffirm the efficacy of certain ideological point s.

However, the dangal does not stand in relation to Hindu Indian culture in the sa me way that the cockfight does to Balinese culture. While the cockfight seems to be an allegory for a Balinese way of life, wrestling, to the Hindu, is a strang e story indeed. Geertzs argument is that the cockfight is a telling of a Balinese story about such primary concerns as status, hierarchy and poise. It is a telli ng, however, that depicts values and ethics as fragile constructs rather than pe rvasive cultural edifices (1973: 447). Even though one can see, behind the thinne st disguise of an animal mask, that jealousy lurks behind poise and envy casts it s shadow on grace, the whole picture is nevertheless a picture of Balinese socie ty. Its foibles and rationalizations are put on par with its equanimity and char m. In essence, then, the cockfight is Balinese through and through. As such it i s a ratification; it makes sense. In contrast, I suggest, the dangal is an anoma ly in Hindu culture. One might say, to overstate the issue only slightly, that t he story a dangal tells is a story against Hindu ideals and values. The dangal i s not so much a ratification as it is a cultural critique, a lens through which one sees certain aspects of social integration and conformity thrown into sharp and disjointed relief. The focus of this lens is on the individuality of the wre stler as an anomaly in Hindu society. Numerous authors have pointed out that Hin du culture is built on the irreducible fact of caste identity and that the salie nt principles of a Western ethic of individuality and freewill are not found in the Hindu worldview. Instead, hierarchy, built on the structuring principles of purity and pollution, defines a pervasive caste ethic. As Daniel (1984), Madan ( 1987), Marriott and Inden (1977), Moffatt (1979), Fruzzetti, str, and Barnett (198 2), and Parry (1989), as well as earlier writers such as Diehl (1956), Dubois (1 906), Dumont (1970), and Srinivas (1965) has each in his or her own way showed, the body is very much implicated in the cultural politics of propriety, auspicio usness, purity, pollution, health, transaction, ritual, and kinship. In this sch eme, the individual body is the nexus of intersecting forces, and many have argu ed that a persons identity is the mutable, animated product of these cultural cod es. In any case, the condition of a persons body is in many respects a measure of his or her place within the larger social whole, a social whole only partially circumscribed by caste rules and concern with rank and status. I contend that th e dangal may be seen as an ideological commentary on the nature of this complex somatic identity. The dangal, like the cockfight, is a safe situation in which to lay bare the very framework of society: fundamental questions and issues are rai sed, but nothing changes through a reading of these events. As with a dream, the fantasy is over when the waking day begins. When the dangal is all over everyon e goes home, enriched, perhaps, but not overwhelmed by the implications of what has been witnessed. In his fictionalized account, Mohanty emphasizes the textual ity of the wrestling dangal: though epic in its proportions and monumental in it s seeming significance, in the end the wrestler is all but forgotten and a world turned momentarily upside down rights itself. There is critique here, but no re al threat of sedition.

The Weekly Bout Many cities, small towns and village clusters organize weekly da ngals, the most basic example of tournament organization. Although they are not particularly elaborate, they capture the essence of all dangals small and large. I am most familiar with the weekly Sunday afternoon dangal held in Dehra Dun. T he pattern is almost identical from one week to the next. Walking along one of t he many roads that lead from the area of the central clock tower towards the old cantonment parade ground on a Sunday afternoon, one is likely to hear the rhyth mic beat of the dhol (double-sided drum) which announces the beginning of every dangal. Earlier in the day, before anyone arrives, a hired laborer digs the tour nament pit. It is inevitably hard-packed from a week of disuse, trampled under t he feet of young neighborhood boys who play cricket nearby, and littered with th e trash that all public grounds seem to attract. Gradually, at about four in the afternoon, a crowd of people gathers around. Those who come early sit on the gr ass about fifteen meters from the edge of the pit. The dhol player walks around counterclockwise calling others to take their places. The mass of seated spectat ors expands to enclose the pit on all four sides. It then thickens to about ten people deep. A second band of standing spectators circles the seated group and e xpands outward as the dangal proceeds. Bicycles, scooters, motorcycles, and the odd truck park on the outer edges of the gathered crowd. From the time that the first bout is fought until the final contest the crowd builds from five hundred to over a thousand. For the most part, working-class men and boysrickshaw pullers , day laborers, semiskilled factory workers, railway porters, and vegetable hawk ersattend weekly bouts. Wrestling is also very popular among mechanics, truck dri vers, and other such skilled professionals who have a self-image of physical pro wess. A fair percentage of the spectators at a dangal own small businesses or wo rk as clerks in the vast municipal bureaucracies, public offices, and district c ourts. As the seated crowd expands around the pit and the drummer continues to b eat the dhol, Sharma, one of the dangal organizers, enters the arena and begins to bless the pit. He lights a stick of incense on one side of the pit and, after circling it around a few times, plants it in the earth. While circumambulating the pit he takes handfuls of marigolds from his satchel and throws them onto the earth. His actions are perfunctory and distracted. While Sharma blesses and cir cles the pit, Bholu, a vegetable hawker who referees the bouts, enters the arena and breaks apart the larger clods of earth that the laborer has left in his has te. Both Sharma and Bholu stop occasionally to talk with friends, answer questio ns, and exchange jokes and jibes. The atmosphere is casual.

The contestants tend to arrive later than the spectators in order to make dramat ic, staged entrances. Contestants usually arrive in groups. In Dehra Dun there a re two main factions. One is lead by Yamin, a fairly well-to-do entrepreneur, an d the other by Lal Bal Wale (the red-haired one) who promotes most of the wrestler s who are not in Yamins clique. Both Yamin and Lal Bal Wale are Muslims, though the wrestlers in their respective cliques are Hindu and Sikh as well as Muslim. A c lique, in the sense used here, is an ad hoc alliance of friends, co-workers, and neighbors who come to the dangal together and support the same wrestlers. A wre stler does not have to be allied with any clique, but alliance does tend to enha nce personal prestige. Yamins clique is comprised of Muslim motorcycle mechanics, butchers, and fishmongers. The clique has supported numerous wrestlers over the years. During the summer of 1987 the focus of the group was exclusively on two Muslim wrestlers from Saharanpur, a district town to the southwest of Dehra Dun. The two wrestlers came by bus every Sunday and met Yamin and the rest of the gr oup at a teashop near the motorcycle garages. As a group the clique would drive or walk to the parade ground. Along the way others who identified with Yamin wou ld join the entourage. Led by Yamin, the clique would clear a path through the s tanding crowd and then purposefully make its way through the seated audience and unabashedly clear an area for themselves in the very front. Yamin would then si t down with the two wrestlers next to him and a clique of fifteen or so friends on either side. The entrance of a clique into the arena is, to say the least, de signed to draw attention to itself. As a body the clique comports itself with ca sual conceit and confident lack of interest. There is a definite quality of maje stic pomp as the members of each clique (and to a lesser but still significant s ense all members of the audience) affect an attitude of cocksure pride and selfconfidence. There is something in the dangal that brings out the prince in every one. Timing is a large part of this drama, and if a dangal is scheduled to start at, say, 4:30, a wrestler with any sort of reputation will not make an entrance before 5:00. The cliques and individual wrestlers make their entrances with var ious degrees of drama. Yamins clique is on par with that of Lal Bal Wale, but there are others: three army wrestlers who form a small though highly regarded clique , a railway clique headed up by Kanta Pahalwaan, and, occasionally, a small grou p of wrestlers from either Haridwar or Roorkee. There are also a number of regul ar independent wrestlers: Chiranji from Rampur, a local wrestler who is recognized because he has only one hand, and a few others from nearby towns and villages. Every so often a wrestler from as far away as Muzzafarnagar (150 km), Simla (200 km) or Chandigarh (125 km) will attend. After he has blessed the pit, Sharma, a toothless seventy-year-old retired municipal-board clerk, calls on young wrestl ers to come into the arena and accept challenges. Usually this appeal has no eff ect, and Sharma berates the crowd for wasting his and everyone elses time. This u sually has about as much effect as the initial appeal which prompts Sharma to gi ve one of his longthough always tongue-in-cheeklectures on respect and the lack

thereof: the spinelessness of modern youth, the need for self-respect, and the v alue and moral duty of public service. Sharma has been doing this for so long th at even if it was once meant seriously, it is now a burlesque self-parody with t he tone of slapstick overstatement. The crowd loves it and shouts back retorts o nly just disguised in enough respect for Sharmas age and status to prevent a real confrontation. While Sharma, acting the part of one mortally insulted, pretends to cancel the dangal for lack of interest, Bholu, a past-his-prime wrestler tur ned referee, enters the pit and starts exercising vigorously. The crowds attentio n turns to Bholu as he parodies a self-important wrestler showing off his streng th and physique while slapping his thighs, beating his chest, preening, and prom enading around the pit. Sharma rises to the occasion and points out that Bholu, a father of eight and purveyor of potatoes, is the picture of health and youth. Sharma and Bholus performance is a studied comic routine that belies the underlyi ng seriousness of the dangal specifically, and, indeed, of wrestling in general. While Bholu and Sharma are in charge of running the dangal, they represent a la rger group of people who are responsible for the overall organization of the eve nt. This group is known as the dangal panchayat and comprises three or four men in addition to Sharma and Bholu. In contrast to the comic aspect of Sharma and B holus role, the pradhan (boss/chief) of the dangal panchayat is a dignified and a ffectedly elite figure. He often wears the uniform of post-Gandhian Indian polit ics: khadi churidar payjamas, black leather country-style shoes, and a white Nehru c ap. The pradhan and two other members of the panchayat always carry briefcases, a clear mark of their status in an otherwise primarily proletarian arena. The pa nchayat is responsible for getting permission from the municipal board for the u se of the parade ground, and from the police for holding a public dangal. The pa nchayat must also pay the dhol player and the man who digs the pit. Beyond this, however, there is little organization or management required. The pradhan does not take an active part in running the dangal. He walks around the pit but rarel y gets involved in arranging or deciding the outcome of a bout. As such, he stan ds as a benevolent symbol of beneficence: an authority without responsibility. O ne of the points that wrestlers make is that dangals are the essence of what may be called a minimalist philosophy. In modern India, as elsewhere, people are pr essured to acquire things in order to be regarded as successful and happy. The d angal, I was told, is directed against this kind of modern materialist mentality . All that one needs is open space, a person to referee, a drummer, and a crowd. Laughing, one man pointed out that unlike cricketers or hockey players a wrestl er hardly needs more than his underwear (i.e., langot) in order to engage in a t ournament. Any patch of earth is a potential arena. From this elemental base the dangal follows its own momentum. It can be stagedand many dangals arebut popular opinion has it that the dangal is a creature of its own volition, an event that emerges through the happenstance encounter of uncommon men in an ultramundane en vironment. In this formulation quality entertainment is not a factor of embellis hed pompcolorful canopies, taped music, posters, and comfortable seatsbut rather a

function of the skill of particular wrestlers. The Dehra Dun dangal is not an el aborate event, but it is often both entertaining and meaningful because of its s tark contrast to the complexity of the larger materialist world. A dangal always begins with the youngest wrestlers coming out to the pit to extend or accept a challenge. Often a pair of eight- or ten-year-olds will be the first to fight. A lthough audiences tend to watch these bouts with desultory interest, many point out that these junior wrestlers must be encouraged if there is to be any wrestli ng in the future. Once the first two boys have wrestled, there is usually a surg e of interest among others of a similar age who quickly take to the pit and try to match themselves with someone of equal age and stature. Sharma and Bholu move these junior bouts along as quickly as possible. Sometimes more than one bout i s fought at a time, and for pre-teenage wrestlers the time limit is never more t han three minutes per bout. While the junior contestants are wrestling, young te enage wrestlers come out to the pit. In Dehra Dun, in 1987, there were not many wrestlers of this age group. At other weekly dangals, however, there are usually numerous thirteen- to fifteen-year-olds eager to challenge someone and quick to accept any challenge offered. In any case, a wrestler only really begins to gai n a reputation after adolescence, and becomes well known and accomplished when h e is seventeen or eighteen. It is these and the more senior wrestlers whom the s pectators have come to see. All else is preamble. After the young teenage wrestl ers have fought a few bouts, Sharma and Bholu gesture to Yamin and Lal Bal Wale to send out their best wrestlers. Inevitably Sharmas first appeal is ignored. More often than not his more adamant second and third appeals are no more effective. Bholu is sent over to have a word with the two groups. Only when Yamin decides a nd gestures toward the pit with a casual though pointed shift of his eyes and he ad do his wrestlers take to the arena. As with the entrance of the clique into t he dangal, the entrance of a wrestler into the arena is a matter of dramatic tim ing and staged self-presentation. An account from the Times of March 2, 1928, ca ptures the essence of this performance: In most places each wrestler breathes a silent prayer, then touches the sand three times and lifts some of it to his bro w, after which he leaps up and down in the open, slapping his thighs with resoun ding smacks. . . . The experts go through an immense amount of preliminaries, ev en after the formal shaking of hands. They do a press-up to improve their own mu scles, and a squat or two to relax their legs, and smack their biceps before fac ing each other in a crouching position (Hornblower 1928: 65). Only when the topranking wrestlers have taken to the arena does the dangal heat up, as

one man put it. The heat is a function of the drama associated with a high rank contest. To illustrate the point we may take up the events of Sunday, September 21, 1987. As the contest between two young wrestlers ended, Yamin leaned over to the two wrestlers from Saharanpur and indicated that it was time for them to tak e a salami of the pitto go out and put forward a challenge. The two wrestlers stoo d up slowly. To the loud applause of the crowd and the resounding rhythm of the dhol they loped out into the arena and jogged across to the near corner of the p it. To perform a dand thonk, both leaned over, touched the earth with their righ t hands and then stood up straight while gently slapping the biceps of their cro oked right arms with the flats of their left hands. Faces expressionless, they s tood next to each other on one side of the pit. Seeing this, and feeling the cro wds energy surge forward with the wrestlers, one had the impression that the danga l had been building to this climax all along, a crescendo anticipated by the ver y first beat of the dhols rhythm. As the two wrestlers took to the arena, Sharma and Bholu began admonishing the crowd with renewed vigor, saying such things as, Here are two fine wrestlers, who will challenge them? There must be someone from Dehra Dun who is up to this. Finally, and with studied casualness, Kaliya, the t op wrestler of the Lal Bal Wale clique, sauntered out into the arena. His entry br ought another loud round of applause from the crowd. Kaliya saluted the earth an d stood on the opposite side of the pit. As Kaliya came into the arena, Yamins cl ique huddled together in conference as the two Saharanpur wrestlers stood and lo oked on. Finally, Kilo, a well-to-do butcher and vocal member of Yamins clique, s tood up and indicated that the younger of the two Saharanpur wrestlers should ex tend his hand to Kaliya in challenge. After a short period of confusion wherein the two Saharanpur wrestlers tried to figure out which one of them should extend the challenge, the younger one, Said, again reached down and touched the earth. Slapping the inside of his right thigh with the flat of his right hand, he leap ed into the pit and ran across to face Kaliya. Without breaking stride Said reac hed down and, grabbing up a handful of earth, extended his hand to Kaliya. Kaliy a reacted by not reacting. As the earth ran through the fingers of Saids extended hand, punctuating, as it were, the pregnant moment of confrontation, Kaliya sto od, as before, with his hands behind his back looking down at a clump of grass b etween his toes. The crowd, which had to this point showed its mild enthusiasm t hrough loud applause, all but exploded with one loud voice as Said leaped across the pit to challenge Kaliya. As he stood, hand extended, the crowd shouted out that Kaliya should take the challenge. Kaliya, however, looked over towards his clique, and reading there some sign, simply shook his head and began walking aro und the pit slowly. Said looked over to Yamins camp, shrugged, and, somewhat flus tered, stepped out of the pit. Kilo dashed out into the arena

and started talking with Sharma and Bholu to try to do something to persuade Kal iya to take the challenge. They all tried to get Kaliya to fight, but to no avai l. Frustrated, Kilo returned to Yamins camp. The three wrestlers in the arena, no w joined by four others, walked casually and with studied indifference around th e pit. Sharma and Bholu went over to the Lal Bal Wale camp and, judging from their gestures and the tone of their voices, told him in no uncertain terms that the match between the two wrestlers was fair and should proceed. Frustrated by a lac k of immediate response from Lal Bal Walewho, like any good clique leader, would no t taint his poise by bowing to pressureSharma came over to Yamins camp along with the pradhan of the dangal to argue that it was getting late and that if a contes t was to be held it had better be soon. As Sharma walked away in close conferenc e with the pradhan, Kilo stood up and announced in a loud, dramatic voice that a purse would be collected to place as a prize for the winner of the bout. With gre at flourish and public demonstration Kilo collected 5 rupees from almost everyon e in Yamins clique and handed the 50-rupee purse to Bholu. Bholu danced out into the arena as the crowd shouted its approval. Holding the money over Saids head, h e announced that anyone who could beat this young man stood to win the whole pur se. Still standing with studied distraction, Said basked in the glory of the cro wds unchecked emotion, which seemed to counterpoise his own control. Kaliya, who had returned to his camp while negotiations were going on, now came out to the p it again. After some hesitation, and loud encouragement from the crowd, Kaliya w alked across the pit and shook hands with the young Saharanpur wrestler. Again t he crowd shouted its approval as the dhol kept pace with the growing excitement. Among Yamins clique there was a feeling of self-satisfaction tinged with a hint of cynical mirth. As those sitting around me put it, greed had proved the strong est arm in the dramatic pre-bout negotiations. Money, they said, breaks down man y barriers. After shaking hands both wrestlers retired to their respective camps : Kaliya with his characteristic casualness and understated style of self-presen tation, and Said with sudden leaps and bounds of hardly restrained excitement. W ith great flourish, Said unwound his langot from around his waist as Kaliya, on the opposite side of the arena, carefully took off his pants and shirt and folde d them in a neat pile. As both wrestlers began to undress, those in Yamins clique made a quick inspection of Saids new janghiya (briefs). Comments were made about the strength of the material, its color and patternpurple with yellow flowersand the fit and quality of the stitching. The leg holes were checked for flexibility and comfort while the thin ropes sewn for strength into the hems were twisted s traight and smooth. The janghiya were passed from hand to hand as each member of the clique demonstrated his knowledge of such things as the texture of the clot h, the quality of the workmanship, the aesthetic of design, and the importance o f fit. Both wrestlers tied on their wrestling langots, smoothed the cloth and te sted the knots

around their waists before squatting down to insure a comfortable fit. Before pu tting on his janghiya, Said jogged up and down in front of Yamins clique while li mbering up his back, neck, and legs. Taking the janghiya and holding them by the waistband he lifted them three times to his forehead in a gesture of supplicati on, respect, and luck. After a few minutes Kilo helped Said into his briefs, whi ch, in accordance with notions of correct fit, must be so tight that often more than one person must push, pull, and crimp them into place. Said shook hands wit h everyone in the clique and again loped into the arena and jogged slowly around the pit to keep himself warm while waiting for Kaliya to make himself ready. Sa id was accompanied into the pit by Salim, the other wrestler from Saharanpur. As he stood by to offer encouragement, a local wrestler dashed across the arena an d into the pit, picked up a handful of earth, and proffered it in challenge to t he unsuspecting and unprepared Salim. Caught off guard, Salim backed away and re fused to take the challenge. The challenger proclaimed in a loud voice that sinc e Salim had entered the arena it was his right to extend a challenge and to have his challenge accepted. Recovering a degree of composure but losing an equal po rtion of patience, Salim walked to the center of the pit and announced that he h ad a cold and a bruised foot and would therefore subject himself to a bout only for a prize of 200 rupees. The challenger followed Salim around the pit with his hand extended and refused to listen to any excuses. This only prompted Salim to refuse more forcefully. Kilo ran into the pit and grabbed hold of Salims sleeve and pulled him back to Yamins camp as the crowd jeered loudly. Having made himsel f ready, Kaliya sauntered into the pit and Sharma called both wrestlers to the c enter. Standing between them he grabbed their wrists, and holding up each wrestl ers arm, in turn announced their names and hometowns. Both wrestlers introduced, Sharma indicated that the bout was set for eight minutes. He released their wris ts and stepped quickly back as the dhol player, silenced only briefly for the an nouncements, again set to beating his drum. Both Kaliya and Said reached down an d rubbed their hands in the earth. Having already broken a sweat, Kaliya submitt ed to being rubbed down and dried with earth. The wrestlers faced each other, lo cked hands, and the contest began as Sharma, Bholu, the pradhan, Kilo, and the d rummer all walked around the pit. In striking contrast to the pre-bout vocal ent husiasm of the crowd, once a contest has begun everyone becomes quiet and attent ive. This is less a natural reaction than an issue of decorum. Silence serves to focus attention on the wrestlers, and the quality of a bout is said to be refle cted in the degree to which skill and strength can leave one quite literally spe echless. Periods of silence are counterpoised with eruptions of vocal empathy. B ut silence is the mark of true appreciation. As everyone agreed, the fight itsel f was lackluster. Neither wrestler had even succeeded in knocking the other down , and so, after eight minutes, Sharma declared it a draw. In spite

of the anticlimax, Kilo dashed out into the arena and lifted Said onto his shoul der to carry him partway back to his clique in a gesture of recognition and acco mplishment. After retiring to their respective camps both wrestlers, accompanied by a member of their clique, walked around the arena to accept money prizes off ered by people in the audience. Kilo, who accompanied Said on his round, admonishe d the crowd to show their appreciation by making a generous contribution. A numb er of people in the audience offered one or two rupees, and when Kilo and Said h ad completed their circuit they had collected about 100 rupees in all. This mone y was carefully counted and sorted into bills of like denomination. After the dr ummer was given two rupees (he collected that much, or a little less, from every wrestler), the rest was wrapped in a scarf and given to Yamin for safekeeping. This money was later given back to Said. Sharma and Bholu then called on other w restlers to compete. Soon two other bouts were arranged. However, these bouts we re equally anticlimactic in both design and execution. The wrestlers were not af filiated with either of the two main cliques and were inexperienced and unskille d. During these bouts, Sharma and one of the other organizers walked through the crowd asking for contributions to ensure the dangals regular continuance. Many p eople were persuaded to give up their spare change. As the last two wrestlers fo ught, the crowds interest faded with the light. Finally the smaller of the two ma naged to flip the other on his back. Bholu, distracted momentarily, failed to se e this and Kilo dashed out shouting that the bout was over. This resulted in a d egree of confusion as Bholu and the other organizers tried to figure out what ha d happened. The crowd, however, took this as a signal that the dangal was over a nd they left the parade ground en masse. The panchayat gathered informally on th e steps of a nearby building and discussed the days dangal. Those who had wrestle d and felt they were entitled to some prize money approached Sharma to ask for t heir winnings. The money that had been collected for the main bout between Kaliy a and Said was distributed equally between them both. Dangal Organization and Sp onsorship The weekly Dehra Dun dangal described above serves as a template on wh ich to construct a more complete picture of the dynamics and practice of wrestli ng tournaments in general. Dangals are held on many public religious holidays su ch as Janamashtami, Shivaratri, Holi, Diwali, Valmiki Jayanti, Nag Panchami, and , as D. N. Majumdar has noted (1958: 304), on Anant Chaudas, Kajali Tij, Shravan i, and Har Chhat. Ishwaran writes that in a South Indian village, Muharram and B asava Jayanti are occasions for three-day-long dangals (1968: 145). In fact, any holiday is an appropriate occasion for a dangal. Similarly, dangals are often h eld in conjunction with regional fairs. Other dangals commemorate the death anni versaries of well-known local and national leaders.

Every dangal is organized by a committee and sponsoring institution. For instanc e, a dangal held in New Delhi, on Shivaratri, was organized by a prominent Shiva Temple Association in East of Kailash. The dangal was part of a much larger sch edule of events which culminated in a public puja on the night of Shivaratri. An other dangal, held in Pontasaheb, was organized by the local chapter of the Pant hers Cluba group of young entrepreneurs and municipal leadersto celebrate Valmikis b irthday. This dangal was a large affair. Wrestlers came from Ambala, Simla, Kuru kshetra, and Chandigarh, and there were over 150 bouts organized over a period o f two days. The dangal was part of a much larger celebration which included a te mple inauguration, folk dances, and a bicycle race. In Banaras a dangal was orga nized for Nag Panchami under the auspices of a local branch of the Rashtriya Swa yamsevak Sangh (RSS), a right-wing nationalist organization. Another dangal in B anaras was organized by the Cart Drivers Uniona labor organization of transport wo rkers. A small dangal held in a village outside of Banaras was organized by loca l village leaders. In sharp contrast to the weekly dangal, organizing a larger, special dangal can be an expensive proposition. For instance, there was a large dangal held across the river from Banaras in the small town of Arohra. The danga l was organized by a local group of grain merchants and mill owners. Although I do not know how much money was spent, one may imagine the capital outlay in the following list of expenses: printing of posters and newspaper announcements, tra nsport of earth for the pit, labor for pit construction, renting and setting up the public-address system and the tent canopy over the wrestling pit, paying the salary of seven to ten policemen and the drummers wage, and supplying flower gar lands, refreshments for guests, and prizes. The largest and most important expen se, of which everyone spoke, was in the form of prize money for the dangals highe st-ranking wrestlers. At large dangals, where prizes are distributed, the younge r wrestlers are awarded cash, Tshirts, drinking glasses, buckets, clocks, saphas , and various other items in accordance with their skill and status. These prize s are displayed on a large table in front of the dangal announcer and other memb ers of the organizing committee. A large dangal always has at least one major bo ut. A major bout is defined by the rank of the wrestlers scheduled to compete an d the prize money offered. At a dangal held in New Delhi on November 1924, 1986, Suresh, a national champion, was awarded a silver gada and 31,000 rupees. Jaypra kash, the second place winner, won 15,000 rupees (Sahadev Singh 1987: 54). The l arge dangals in Maharashtra are said to offer purses of 100,000 rupees to the be st-known wrestlers in India. In the past, national champions such as Denanath, L al ji, Mehar Din, and Chandagi Ram have been awarded sums over 75,000 rupees. Da ngals on this national scale do not take place very often. Far more common are l ocal regional dangals to which one or two well-known wrestlers are invited. The prize money at these dangals ranges anywhere from 1,000 to 10,000 rupees. The am ount is established prior to the bout and is a way of attracting well-known wres tlers.

There are various ways in which money is collected to hold a dangal. A common pr actice is to sell tickets, and the price of tickets varies depending on the size of the dangal and on the quality of the seats. At dangals where the prize money is under 15,000 rupees tickets sell for two to five rupees per seat. So called t icket dangals are not well regarded and are sharply contrasted with khula (open) dangals, which are free to anyone who is interested. The main criticism of ticke t dangals is that the organizers stand to make money for themselves. Ticket dang als are, in a pejorative sense, a form of business. Thekedars (contractors) who organize these dangals set up bouts for the explicit purpose of making money. Th ese thekedars are not well regarded by many wrestlers who believe that their ski ll and status will be compromised to greed if they are required to fight nura or fixed bouts. Moreover, most wrestlers with whom I spoke said that the most repreh ensible aspect of fixed bouts was that the audience would be duped and thus chea ted. Khula dangals are not tainted with the stigma of ticket-sale profits, exclu sivity, ranked seating, or the possibility of graft. They are often sponsored by independent nonprofit groupstemple committees, village panchayats, municipal-boa rd departments, blockdevelopment committees, and local clubs. These groups fund the dangal either through budgetary allotment or, as is more often the case, by asking members and community leaders to contribute to a public fund. For instanc e, a dangal sponsored by the Cart Drivers Union of Banaras asked its membership t o contribute a portion of their wage to build a purse big enough to attract a we ll-known Delhi wrestler. Often a few well-to-do businessmen contribute most of t he money required for a dangal. These men are therefore seen as the dangals chief organizers. For example, a dangal held in Banaras under the auspices of the RSS was financially underwritten by a wealthy sweet-shop owner. Financial contribut ions are a way for public figures to make a name for themselves, to project them selves into the public eye. There is always a cadre of men who are highly visibl e at a dangal. They are seated behind or near the announcers table next to the pr izes, garlands, and pile of head cloths. Like the pradhan of the Dehra Dun danga l these men project an aura of authority without having any responsibility. One person from the sponsoring groupbut never anyone of great statusis responsible for making announcements over the public-address system. Another low-ranking member of the cadre is usually responsible for the distribution of prizes. As in the D ehra Dun dangal there are usually two referees. At larger khula dangals the refe rees are not affiliated with the sponsoring group and a third person may serve a s an arbitrating judge. At a khula dangal most of the bouts are not prearranged, but are arranged in the same way as in the weekly dangal described above. Many khula dangals attract a large number of wrestlers who come and sit together with their akhaaraa clique. These cliques sit as close to the pit as possible. Often there are more wrestlers who want to wrestle than can be

accommodated. It is the referees responsibility to select a wrestler and establis h him as the challenger for the next bout. Only those who shake hands in front o f the referee are legitimate contestants. Despite efforts to control the number of wrestlers challenging and being challenged, there is often a great deal of co nfusion on the periphery of the pit as candidates for a bout converge on the ref eree at the end of each preceding contest. One of the referees announces each wr estlers name, his hometown, the name of his guru, the amount of cash or type of p rize that will be given to the winner, and the length of the bout. The length of a bout increases with the age, size, and status of the wrestlers competing. Sim ilarly, the greater the amount of the prize money, the longer the bout. A bout c an be any length of time and is fought without breaks until one or the other wre stlers shoulders touch the earth. Any bout worth more than 1,000 rupees is likely to be scheduled for about thirty minutes. Occasionally bouts will be scheduled for an hour, but ten to fifteen minutes is the average for a bout worth a hundre d rupees. If a bout is not decided at the end of the scheduled time, the time is often simply extended. There are tales of bouts going on in this manner for hou rs, and even days at a time. Swagat In between dangal bouts, short ceremonies ar e performed which recognize and give public acclaim to men of renown. These ritu als are referred to as swagat (honorific welcome). To give swagat is an act of r espect and to receive it a mark of honor and status. The most common form of giv ing swagat is for one of the members of the dangal organizing committee to invit e the person to be honored into the pit. This person salutes the pit and is intr oduced to the audience. He is garlanded and a sapha is tied around his head. Som etimes he is given a small sum of cash as a mark of respect. Depending on the ci rcumstances, the honored person is sometimes asked to inaugurate a bout. This en tails no more than standing between the two wrestlers who are about to compete a nd placing ones hand over their hands as they shake to initiate a bout (see plate 9). If a photographer is present this ceremony is staged carefully and captured on film. The wrestlers who are about to compete touch the feet of the honored p erson, who leaves the pit and retakes his seat as the bout begins. A wide range of people receive swagat at wrestling bouts. Although the organizers of a bout d o not usually receive swagat themselves, close associates of the organizers are inevitably honored. Thus, at a dangal organized by a group of grain merchants a number of wealthy traders were honored. Similarly, at a dangal organized by a un ion, ranking union members were honored. And at a dangal organized by the Rashtr iya Swayamsevak Sangh, members of that organization who were not directly involv ed in the planning of the dangal were given swagat. At a dangal organized by a t emple committee, one of the main benefactors

was given swagat. Swagat is not restricted to members of the organizing group. W ell-known gurus and retired wrestlers are also honored and introduced to the pub lic. Similarly, religious leaders are accorded special status and are given swag at for gracing the dangal with their presence. Those who have been asked by the organizing committee to referee or judge the dangal are also given swagat. At so me dangals the organizing committee invites a chief guest to enhance the importa nce and pomp of the event. At a dangal organized by the police, for instance, th e district superintendent was invited. He could not attend but sent his deputy i nstead. At other dangals local municipal politicians or departmental chiefs are often called upon to attend. For example, R. S. Toliya, the district magistrate of Banaras, was invited to the district jori/gada dangal of 1985. A member of th e Legislative Assembly was invited to a dangal organized by Akhaaraa Bara Ganesh . Kunwar Rajindar Singh Bedi, also a member of the Legislative Assembly of Firoz pur district, Punjab, is a popular figure at local and regional dangals (Ali 198 4). In Delhi, Yashpal Kapur, a Congress Party leader, was one of the luminaries at the Mahan Bharat Kesri Dangal of 1977. Village pradhans, blockdevelopment off icers, and local advocates are often invited as chief guests to small rural dang als. Many wrestlers point out that the best dangals of the past were those spons ored by rajas, maharajas, and powerful zamindars. It was on these occasions in p articular that the kings power was most clearly reflected in the body of his cour t wrestler. The presence of a local luminary such as a rich merchant, respected mahant (abbot), or powerful politician serves to transpose the world of wrestlin g onto the larger world of business, institutionalized religion, politics, and r ural development. In a figurative sense the ritual of swagat serves to link wres tling to power and prestige in other walks of life. More than anything else, how ever, the ritual of swagat highlights one of the most important aspects of danga l participation: honor, respect, and the public display of status expressed as n am kamanato make a name for oneself. Nam Kamana Making a name for oneself is anot her manifestation of the general synoptic theme being traced here. It is specifi cally focused on the issue of public identity (see plate 10). What is striking a bout a dangal, in contrast to the akhaaraa, is that identity is reduced to what appears to be mundane pride and a simple narcissistic concern for fame and socia l status. In the dangal pit it does not so much matter whether a wrestler is a t rue brahmachari, whether he is a vegetarian, whether he massages his gurus feet a nd washes his clothes, or whether he is Hindu, Muslim, Jat, Yadav, Thakur, or Ch amar. It matters only whether he wins or loses. One can certainly surmise that a winner probably has the character of a good

wrestler, but in the drama of victory and defeat these concerns are subordinated to the immediacy of a simple dichotomy: success or failure. It is on this point that the dangal is dramatically different from the akhaaraa regimen and ritual. While dangal preamble is cloaked in a mantle of pompswagat, prizes, dramatic pit entries, stylistic self-presentation the contest itself strips away the larger d ramatic context to reveal a simple confrontation. A whole hierarchy of status an d fame is based on this dichotomy. There are the wrestlers who earn a name for t hemselves by winning. They become well-known and respected champions, even thoug h, like all wrestlers, they sometimes lose. One must not underemphasize the degr ee to which a wrestler benefits from fame, even though the benefits are not nece ssarily material in nature. To have a name is a primary end in itself: to be rec ognized while walking down the street, to be invited in for a glass of milk, to see ones name in the newspaper, to be fawned over, to be talked about, to be allo wed to move to the front of a line at the bank or post office, to be given free rides on public buses, and so forth. A wrestlers success reflects directly on his guru. Fame is directly translated. Similarly, a wrestlers status reflects on his akhaaraa. When he wins his akhaaraa brothers also win, and when he loses all of the members of the akhaaraa sink with him. Less explicitly linked to the fact o f winning or losing, but still implicated in the quality of each bout, is the st atus of the dangal organizers and their guests. A bout well fought reflects well on everyone associated with it. When I asked why people organized dangals, why people were given swagat, why people donated money to sponsor dangals, why peopl e in the crowd gave money to successful wrestlers, and why wrestlers compete, th e answer was, inevitably, for public recognition, so that ones name will be known. Whether as king, court wrestler, or village pradhan, to have a name is to be firml y rooted in the larger world of social, political, and economic relations. Excep t for a wrestler who is regularly successful, the dangal is not a way to make a name for oneself. The dangal is more a mode of expression than a functional devi ce to gain recognition. It is not a medium through which to achieve status, but a context in which to express identity. The names of the organizers and chief gu ests are writ large on the dangal stage. However, a person must already be well known and respected to be accorded the honor of swagat. Even if an unknown perso n puts up thousands of rupees to organize a dangal, he will be overshadowed by s omeone who is already a respected, powerful person in the community. Because of the stark dichotomy of success and failure played out again and again in every b out, there is an illusion that everyones status is at risk. In every victory ther e is the exhilarating possibility of unbounded fame and in every defeat the coll ective shudder of possible ignominy. However, the organizers and luminaries do n ot stand to lose status and respect any more than they can expect to achieve sta tus and respect through a dangal. The dangal only tells a story of status by cal ling out a litany of names earned in other arenas.

In this drama the risk is vicarious for all but the wrestlers themselves. It is their very real success and failure which lends credence to the event as a whole and which makes the play of status and honor meaningful. Intermediary Conclusions: From Thick to Thin In beginning with a detailed descri ption of a fairly commonplace, weekly dangal and moving, by stages and with prog ressive objectification, to a consideration of dangal types, organization, swaga t, and nam kamana, I have made an effort to set the stage for what follows. In d oing so I have not imposed my own categories of interpretation, but have tried t o remain true to the wrestlers own interpretive rubric. The act of wrestling is t he centerpiece of every dangal. As the nexus of the dangal, the wrestling event is what all other events are organized in relation to. As such, the art of wrest lingthe skill involvedprovides a definitive commentary on the affected preamble of dangal pomp, the ideology of wrestling as a way of life, and, by extension, on certain aspects of the Hindu ethos. Where the pomp of the dangal builds the wres tler up to heroic proportions, the art of wrestling strips him down to the biome chanics of a singular geometry of movement. Outside of the dangal, and indeed as the wrestler affectedly enters the arena, one might say that a wrestlers identit y is pregnant with meaning. His body and its interpretations are a veritable poe tics of strength and virtue. This condition is dramatically inverted when the wr estler actually begins to wrestle and the crowd falls silent. In a specific and temporary sense he is reduced, in the dangal, from texture to essence: from thic k to thin. In the following sections I will trace the biomechanics of this proce dure. The Art of Wrestling The art of wrestling is composed of stance, paintra, and moves and countermoves, daw and pech. I have listened to many wrestlers desc ribe at length the importance of a balanced stance, the positioning of arms, leg s and head. A balanced stance puts one in position to apply a move or counter an attack. As Ratan Patodi points out, stance is a crucial aspect of the overall t echnique of wrestling. In his description one can see a concern for detail and p recision.

Paintra is the fixing of the feet on the ground after having made a move or havi ng countered an attack. It is the art of standing in the akhaaraa. It is the poi nt of entry into the act of wrestling and the prelude to every dangal. Ones stanc e puts one in a position to attack or retreat. . . . Every stance has an appropr iate counterstance, and one must move in tandem with ones opponent. Sometimes a s trong wrestlers stance will be so firm that his feet will be as fixed as Angads. [ Angad was a great wrestler in Rams army.] All attempts to shake him will fail. Ey es and stance move together. Stance brings color to the akhaaraa. A wrestler who is as quick as a black hawk, can, with wisdom and vigilance, move from stance t o stance and confuse his opponent. He jumps, ducks,sways, runs, lures and fright ens his opponent. He may stand near or at a distance, straight or in a crouch. H e may attack aggressively or retreat passively, drop down on all fours, move fro m side to side and turn around. All the time he has in mind the move he wants to apply and uses his stance to choreograph the attack. In a stance, ones forward l eg should be in line with ones bowed head so that the chin is straight above the knee, and ones center of balance fixed. One should move ones feet precisely and wi th purpose. If ones stance is like a pillar then an attack will find its mark. On e should be able to shift ones weight from one leg to another so as to feint and attack without faltering. When you set your stance, the forward leg is usually t he stronger. Some people are equally strong in both legs. In any case, one must always keep one foot at least one and a quarter hands length ahead of the other. With the feet neither too far apart nor too close together, the angle between th e feet should be between forty-five and fifty degrees. . . . Ones hands should ne ither be fully extended nor left limp at ones side. They should be bent at the el bow and held firm . . . one should be bent at the waist with shoulders somewhat hunched and neck pulled in rather than extended. Ones feet and hands should be te nsed so that one can be fast on the attack and firm in absorbing and turning a p arry aside. With ones right foot forward and body crouched there should be enough weight in the forward lean to make for a quick attack but not so much as will i mbalance the body and make it fall out of control (Patodi 1973a: 3940). Patodis de scription of the paintra continues. He further elaborates the virtues of a firm stance and the positioning of the wrestlers body. He draws an analogy between the firmness of stance in wrestling to like stances in business, war, life in general , and politics. He argues for the natural importance of stance by drawing an ela borate parallel between the innate balance of animals and the requisite balance of a wrestler in the pit. A wrestler with a balanced stance is like a hawk from whom no prey can escape (ibid: 42). Others have spelled out the importance of st ance in equal if not greater detail (cf. Atreya 1972b; K. P. Singh 1974; H. Sing h 1981: 7586; 1984a: 3941, R. Gupta n.d.: 26). Along these lines a most embarrassi ng event occurred at a Banaras dangal in which a wrestler

from Akhaaraa Ram Singh was pitted against a well-known wrestler from Delhi. Aft er about two minutes of grappling the Delhi wrestler managed to kick the feet ou t from underneath the Banaras wrestler with such force that his head and shoulde r hit the earth while his legs flailed out of control. Having failed to apply th is most basic of wrestling techniques, the Banaras wrestler was humiliated. Alth ough stance is of preeminent importance, the art of wrestling also entails the c areful execution of moves and countermoves. It is of vital importance that a wre stler have a firm grasp of a particular move in all its ineffable intricacy. Whe n I told wrestlers that I was writing a book on Indian wrestling they assumed th at it would be a descriptive catalogue of daws and pechs, a litany of feints and parries. From their perspective this is what was needed: a step-by-step, blow-b y-blow description of every possible move. It would be simply impossible to do j ustice to the thousands of moves and countermoves which make up the art of India n wrestling. In any case, H. Singh (1981, 1984b), R. Gupta (n.d.), Patodi (1973a ), Ram (1982),and Mujumdar (1950) have provided synopses of many of the most com mon moves. Almost everyone, including the authors of many of these books, agrees that their descriptions are grossly inadequate: nothing can substitute for the real thing. In any case, my purpose here is not to give a descriptive account of wrestling moves or to undertake a formal classification of types of moves. I wi ll restrict my comments to a discussion of how any one bout is envisioned: as a whole and choreographed sequence of moves. In doing so I hope to show how the bo dy of the wrestler is broken down, as it were, into sequences of depersonalized movement. From a skilled wrestlers perspective every single move, glance, shift o f weight and moment of motionlessness ought to be classifiable into some aspect of a paintra, daw, or pech. In a perfect encounter there should be no extraneous or arbitrary movements which do not proceed from or come as a result of some ot her purposeful action. A skilled wrestler is one who can read this pure grammar of movement most clearly, and who is able to take advantage of his opponents misr eading: his carelessness. A good wrestler can interrupt a movement and translate it into something for which it was not intended. He must also be able to read a head and anticipate his opponents moves by examining the geometry of his stance. The art of wrestling is to achieve an economy of effective motion. Because every move can be answered with a whole range of countermoves, no two bouts are ever the same. No move is predictable or established as inevitable given the configur ation of previous moves; structured improvisation is the key. Wrestlers are taug ht moves and how to put moves together in chains of motion, but it is only throu gh practice that one learns the art of improvisation. Improvisation has an ineff able quality, and in order to capture it in words the bout must be broken down i nto distinct parts. Memory serves to amplify the ineffable by distorting the seq uence into isolated events. After a dangal one can often hear groups of men reco unting a particular bout and criticizing the wrestlers on the basis of the choic es they made: He moved back when he should have moved forward. His weight was on the wrong

foot. All he had to do was stand up and it would have been all over. He should n ot have let go of the ankle. Often these remarks center on particular moves: He wa s in the perfect position for a dhak but he missed his chance and left his leg o pen. He didnt have his weight far enough under to make the dhobi pat work. He was too far away to try a bhakuri. As they are so recounted, all moves are abstracti ons from what is in fact a chain of improvised motion. It is instructive, howeve r, to understand how particular moves are conceptualized outside the framework o f a competitive bout. The multani is one of the most popular moves in Indian wre stling because it is difficult to execute correctly but spectacular when applied properly. Ratan Patodi describes five variations of the move. The most common o ne is as follows: You are facing your opponent and both of you have one hand on e ach others neck. At this point grab your opponents other hand with your free hand. Jump forward and pivot on your rear foot while kicking up your front leg to cat ch your opponents rear leg (1973a: 53). Naturally this description is an abbreviat ion of what actually takes place: a shift of weight from one leg to the other, t he twist and bend of the hips, a rotation of the shoulders, the corresponding fo rward pull of ones opponents arm and neck, and the positioning of ones body close e nough to ones opponent to enable the pivot foot to work as a fulcrum. There are a host of other minor but crucial aspects of the multani; for example, the correc t way to grip and pull the hand and the most effective way to pull the neck forw ard and down. The sakhi is another effective and popular move. You have shaken h ands as the bout is beginning. If your opponents right leg is forward, grab his r ight wrist with your left hand. Circle your other arm over the upper part of his right arm and lock it straight. Insert your right leg between your opponents leg s and hook it behind his right knee (ibid: 61). Patodi completes the picture by referring to a photograph which shows a wrestler tripping his opponent with his hooked right leg while pulling down and pushing forward on the locked right arm. The kalajangh is a common, effective, and relatively easy move to apply. As you r opponent leans forward off balance, you grab his left arm above the elbow with your left hand. You drop onto your right knee and simultaneously duck under you r opponents chest while sliding your right arm between his legs, grabbing hold of his right thigh. Rolling to your left, flip your opponent across your back so t hat he lands on his back with you on top of him. Every dangal bout is read, retr ospectively, as a series of moves and countermoves. However, not all of the move s are recalled. Only the most glaring mistakes, the near falls, the effective tr icks, and the successful parries are remembered. Ratan Patodi recounts the follo wing bout, for which the prize was 100,000 rupees, between Kartar, a disciple of Guru Hanuman, and Suresh, a disciple of Indias best-known wrestler, Chandagi Ram .

At exactly 4:45 P.M. the minister of sports introduced the wrestlers and inaugur ated the dangal. Having defeated the excellent wrestler Jayprakash, Suresh stood taut, fit and with an expression of self-confidence on his face. Kartar, traine d by Raj Singh and experienced in international competition, stood near by, his body radiant. For twenty minutes the two wrestlers sized each other up and measu red one anothers strength and skill. Both being fresh, neither of them wanted to make the first move. Both wrestlers fought defensively. Sometimes Kartar pushed forward and at other times Suresh would advance, but after twenty minutes it was impossible to tell who had the upper hand. There was a difference however. Kart ar was pacing himself and not wasting his strength while Suresh was putting all of his energy into defensive tactics. He was getting more tired by the minute. A t 5:05 P.M. Kartar applied a very strong dhak and although Suresh was not quick enough to defend himself completely, he did manage to grab Kartars back. This uns ettled Kartar who maneuvered his way out of the pit while freeing himself. The r eferee called both wrestlers back to the center of the pit and the bout continue d. However, Kartar was off balance and after two minutes he halfheartedly tried to apply another dhak, but this time Suresh got a better grip of his waist and b rought Kartar to his knees. This moment was for Kartar a time to catch his breat h while Suresh continued to expend his energy. Three times Suresh put his knee o n Kartars neck and tried unsuccessfully to flip him over. Using his strong neck K artar was easily able to rotate out of danger. Each time he foiled Sureshs effort s the crowd in the stadium applauded such that the arena echoed their appreciati on. All the while Kartar was recovering his strength for what was to be a bout t hat went on for an extra fifteen minutes. Both wrestlers were tired after thirty minutes, but they remained cautious and wary of each others moves. . . . As the fans hearts beat faster and faster Kartar applied a bagal dubba in the eleventh m inute and brought Suresh down with lightning speed (1986a: 8183). Any bout can be reduced to three basic principles: strength, stamina, and skill, with skill bei ng a function of both experience and training. The grammar of a wrestlers movemen t and the geometry of his stance are a direct representation of these basic fact ors. There is, I think, a transparent and ultramundane quality to this art that serves to root aspects of the wrestlers identity in nature and the supernatural.

Naturalization and Deification In a dangal one is presented with the distilled e ssence of a whole way of life wherein the textured identity of the wrestler is f lattened out and moored to gross natural factors of raw strength, instinctual cour age, and reflex action. When two wrestlers meet in the pit it is a cultural dram a of base nature. It is as though the thick, cultural construct of a wrestling w ay of life is suddenlyand only for the duration of the boutmade thinly transparent . Instead of a complex scheme of strength and energy based on diet, discipline a nd devotion, there is, in a dangal, a clear, uninhibited representation of brute force. Training, discipline and practice are momentarily subordinated to what a ppears to be instinct and natural ability. This is generally true even for those who know how to wrestle, but it is particularly true for the masses of people w ho come to watch a wrestling tournament. As in many sports that entail aggressiv e, physical contestboxing, ice hockey, American football, cockfighting there is, i n Indian wrestling, a strong undertone of barbaric violence. Here is a world whe re the controlling hand of cultural civility is figuratively, and very circumspe ctly, removed. At many of the dangals I witnessed there was a sense of nervous, almost fearful anticipation of what might happen if things got totally out of ha nd. In any case there is, I think, a sense in which the Indian wrestling audienc e feels a degree of vicarious empathy for the naked, aggressive wrestler. The po sition of the epic poems, particularly the Ramayana and the more popular Tulasi Ramayana, must be recognized in this regard. In his epic vision of wrestling, Tu lasi Das writes a poetics of nature into Hanumans fierce eyes, Angads tree-trunkli ke legs, and the mountainous proportions of Ravanas warriors. Lightning, thunder, wild elephants, raging bulls, and swaying trees are all terms used to describe wrestling combat. Images such as these come to life as one watches a dangal. In a concrete sense this distillation allows both wrestler and audience to experien ce the tangible essence of an elaborate cultural construct: to wallow, as it wer e, in the primordial clay from which the whole experience of wrestling emerges. The dangal is a peeling away of the layers of a way of life to reveal the raw ma terial from which it is made. It is, of course, an elaborate cultural illusion t o make a complex art look as though it were mere instinct, brute force, and natu ral talent. Through this operation the tenets of strength and virtue are more fi rmly grounded in what appears to be the irrefutable mandate of nature. They emer ge not as programs of faith or mere conviction but as inevitable and taken for g ranted facts of life. Let me put this another way. When a wrestler wrestles with such consummate skill that his strength and flawless technique appear as though they are a natural gift, this serves to ground the ideological aspects of wrest ling in a world outside of culture, in the blood of all Indians, as Patodi puts it (1985: 45). Metaphoric parallels are drawn between the fixity of a wrestlers sta nce and the sturdiness of a tree trunk, the bulk of a wrestlers chest and

the majesty of Himalayan peaks, the lightning speed of a wrestlers twists and tur ns and the thunder of his slapping thighs. These parallels effectively superimpo se a carefully crafted art, a most intricate cultural construct, onto a primordi al extrahuman world imbued with supreme power. This point is illustrated by Rata n Patodi in a vivid description of a 1926 wrestling bout between Gunga and Kallu Gama in Kolhapur. The natural skill and strength of the two wrestlers is demons trated by means of an oscillating metaphorKallu and Gunga are at once animal and divine, natural and supernatural: Hearing their names, Kallu and Gunga jumped up and stood firm. They were quivering with anticipation and appeared as two coiled snakes ready to strike. . . . The supporters of each wrestler danced as though lost in holy rapture at the sight of god (1985: 45). Wrestlers are often compared to animals: as fast as a leopard, eyes of a hawk, courage of a lion, and unleas hed power of a rogue elephant. The divine metaphor is also quite common and is u sed to describe the radiance of victory and the complete, focused concentration of a wrestler in the pit. The great Gama was often referred to as Krishna of the Kaliyug. As Atreya writes in one of his articles, the true wrestler is god (1973a), and in virtually every akhaaraa one can find an image of the founding gurualways a great wrestler himselfwho is said to have been of divine proportions. It could not have been otherwise, I was told, since no mortal could have possibly lifted the heavy nals or swung the gigantic gadas which now gather dust in many akhaar aa corners. A wrestler is never just human any more than is wrestling just a cul tural construct. Metaphor and analogy serve to underscore the gross aspects of d angal wrestling by writing an act of cultural performance back onto nature and b y translating a wrestlers natural ability into an act of god. In this formulation w restling as a way of life emerges out of the pit, as it were, animated not just by the natural fact of instinct but by divine mandate as well. The Dangal as Cultural Critique A number of anthropologists have commented in pa ssing that wrestling tournaments are anomalous cultural events because they are situations where caste concerns are explicitly laid aside (Beals 1964: 107; D. N . Majumdar 1958; Mandelbaum 1970: 182183, 331 332; Orenstein 1965: 201, 232, 254). Majumdar writes: No caste restrictions are observed in choosing the combatants. All feelings of superiority and inferiority are laid aside, and a Thakur can wre stle with a Chamar or Pasi (1958: 304305). I was told a story of the Banaras wrest ler Jharkhande Rais wrestling bout with Vijay

Kumar, the national champion from Delhi. A group of men went with Jharkhande Rai from Banaras to Delhi where the bout was to be fought. There they looked into V ijay Kumars caste background and discovered that he was a low caste person and wo uld not, therefore, have the necessary buddhi (wisdom) to wrestle with the twice -born Jharkhande Rai. The bout began and before anyone realized what was happeni ng Vijay Kumar grabbed Jharkhande Rai by his janghiya and in one smooth movement picked him up and threw him to the ground. At this point in the story the narra tor laughed at his own conceit and explained that Vijay Kumars body seemed to swe ll and glow with a bright radiance and we all looked toward heaven wondering from where his strength had come. Undoubtedly it was rigorous self-discipline cast in the light of a transcendent supernatural ability which had enabled Vijay Kumar to overcome his natural caste-based inability. Because of the staged caste confron tation that characterizes many bouts, I suggest that dangals are important comme ntaries on Indian social life. The commentary aspect of the dangal turns on the synoptic reification of the natural body as an icon of identity. In other words, the stark terms of success and failure in conjunction with a particularly somat ic way of life suggest an alternative reading of Indian social organization. The y suggest a critique of caste hierarchy through positing a body politics of almo st barbaric self-determination. In practical terms this is nothing more than the very real possibility that a Chamar wrestler may put his knee on the neck of a young Brahman and flip him onto his back and into ignominy. But the caste status of the particular wrestlers only adds a degree of irony and poignancy to this p icture; who a wrestler is in terms of caste rank is, in fact, beside the point. In a world based on rigid caste ascription where the individual is subordinated to the social whole, and where much social interaction is guided by an implicit belief in the veracity of contagious impurity, fate, and auspiciousness, it is u nnerving to see a person write his own destiny in terms other than those prescri bed by social precedent and cultural mandate. For the spectator the question rai sed might be put something like this: If the body of the wrestler can be made to march so effectivelyand with such heroic consequencesto the tune of a different d rum, than what is to be made of the rest of culture? Where is there room for the subtle distinctions of civilization in a world where the rules are written in t erms of muscles and morals rather than rank and status? Regardless of what categ ory of person is in the pit, it is intriguing, challenging, and not a little fri ghtening to see a person turn an established system on its head, even when every one accepts the fact that it is just a game. I am referring here to an ideologic al commentary on an ideological formulation. The dangal is not a form of sociopo litical protest, if by this one means a self-conscious project of radical change . It is, as I read it, a textual critique of an established worldview. This crit ique is based on the peeling away of the wrestlers identity to reveal an essentia l man. In this sense, the wrestler stands as a naked caricature of individuality , a parody of asocial natural man stripped of all cultural trappings of any kind , and lauded for his personal and

instinctive skill. In this formulation the emphasis placed on fame and making a name for oneself is particularly significant. In the drama of the dangal one can , for a moment, step out of the arena of ascribed status and risk a quick turn o n the stage of pure individuality. For the wrestler and the audience alike, the dangal is a story of society in a different key. Where normally there is strict social hierarchy, the dangal suggests the possibility of individual achievement. In a world of strict rules of body purity wrestlers enact a ritual of physical contact saturated in sweat, mucus, and occasionally blood. It is not at all coin cidental that there is an element of the horrific in this barbaric, anticaste dr ama. Conclusion Geertz argues that the cockfight is a Balinese reading of Baline se life, a way of making sense through explication and interpretive elaboration. In a way the dangal is similar to the cockfight, but it is also fundamentally d ifferent, for it systematically takes apart that which is so carefully maintaine d and preserved in other arenas. The dangal focuses attention on the ideological inverse of caste hierarchy by positing the individual as a social fact, and ind ividuality as a moralif somewhat uncivilizedvalue. It makes no difference that suc h a suggestion is, as some have argued, a conceptual impossibility given the Hin du worldview. The dangal, after all, is only really significant in the sense tha t dreams and other fantasies are. Its logic is not pragmatic, but cosmological i n the Lvi-Straussian sense that dangals, like myths, are tools through which peop le think, templates for conceptual thought. The positing of a natural individual is, in this sense, just an unconscious inversion of the more protean way things normally are. In this primal dream is the intriguing possibility of another way of seeing the world. 8. Hanuman: Shakti, Bhakti, and Brahmacharya Chiken Pahalw aans uncle Sarabjit was a great wrestler. He was a very devout believer in Hanuma n. He would sit at the akhaaraa temple and worship for two hours straight. He on ly did 200 bethaks per day but was a great wrestler. He was a Hanuman pujari and from this he derived his strength. He would worship with such feeling that tear s would come to his eyes. Largely because of his prominent role in the epic Rama yana drama, Hanuman is a popular deity among North Indian Hindus. When verses fr om Tulasi Dass version of the Ramayana are sung, the most common and popular tell of Hanumans exploits: his leap across the ocean to Lanka, the grandeur of his bo dy as revealed to the captive Sita, his singlehanded destruction of Lanka, his j ourney to the Himalaya and his flying return with the mountain on which grew the medicinal root that would cure the mortally wounded Lakshman.

In addition to his great popularity as an epic hero, HanumanMahavir (the great co urageous)is worshipped in countless temples and shrines. In Banaras alone one can go hardly two hundred meters in any direction without coming across a place whi ch is sacred to him. These places range in size and significance from the great Sankat Mochan mandir in the southern part of the city, where thousands of people come to worship on Saturday evenings, to the small roadside shrine which may ap pear to be nothing more than a vermilion plastered stone set into a niche at the base of a tree. Regardless of size or aesthetic appeal, every shrine dedicated to Hanuman is the object of someones devotion. Every Tuesday and Saturday morning at dawn a group of women bathe, garland, and clothe the image of Hanuman at a c rossroads near Naisarak in the Chaitganj area of Banaras. An older man sits read ing the Tulasi Ramayana on a small ledge near a Hanuman shrine in the crowded Ch auk Bazaar. A family pushes its way through the crowded courtyard of the Sankat Mochan mandir. Unable to get close enough to the images of Hanuman therein, a ma n lifts his son onto his shoulders and instructs him to throw a garland of flowe rs in the general direction of the main shrine. A rickshaw driver leaves hold of his handlebars to bow his head and fold his hands as he passes a flower-bedecke d shrine from which emanates the aroma of incense and marigolds and the recorded music of devotional hymns. Entering a tea shop a man touches the feet of a fade d calendar image of Hanuman around which hang the flower garlands of other suppl iants. For many who live in Banaras, and to a lesser but still significant exten t throughout northcentral India, Hanuman is regarded as a tangible deity. Though phenomenal in a supernatural, heroic mode, his exploits make sense on the pragm atic level of everyday life. As anyone I asked was quick to reply, Hanuman stand s for two things: strength (shakti/bal) and devotional adoration (bhakti). These two aspects of his character are clearly interrelated. Hanumans great strength i s a direct reflection of his devotion. The more perfect his bhakti, the greater his strength; the more fabulous his strength the greater the magnitude of his bh akti. Despite their eminently human qualities, deities like Ram and Krishna stan d for abstract, divine grace. They inspire an aura of respect based on the fact of their ultimately incomprehensible divinity. While it is true that Krishna is the object of devotional worship in the tradition of bhakti (Singer 1963) and is therefore tangible in a purely mystical sense, his characterization in and thro ugh the Bhagavad Gita is much less personal. In this text Krishna is the constru ct and constructor of abstract theology. Hanuman, on the other hand, does not re present some metaphysical absolute nor advocate a particular ontology. Rather, i n his relationship to Ram, Hanuman represents spiritual devotion. To the extent that Ram represents ultimate spiritual realization, Hanuman represents the metho d through which that spirituality is realized: the adoration of bhakti. Hanuman is certainly supernatural, but his power is that of a divine agent rather than a transcendental being. In this regard Hanuman is perhaps unique in the Hindu pan theon insofar as he represents a spiritual method rather than a spiritual goal. He provides a model for living a virtuous life.

Every akhaaraa has at least one shrine dedicated to Lord Hanuman and his worship is an important part of every wrestlers daily regimen (see plate 11). In this ch apter I will show how Hanuman serves as a model for the construction of the wres tlers identity. This identity is based on three basic themes: the relationship of shakti (energy) to bal (strength), the concept of brahmacharya, and the nature of devotion as bhakti. Before looking at each of these themes it is necessary to outline briefly some points regarding the nature of Hanumans divinity. Hanuman: An Overview It is surprising that although Hanuman is one of the most popular de ities in North India there is very little written about him in the academic lite rature (cf. Bulcke 1960; G. Rai 1976; and Wolcott 1978 for notable but still mar ginal exceptions). Even in the commentaries on the Valmiki Ramayana and Tulasi D ass Ramacaritamanasa(cf. Allchin 1964) there is scant attention given to an analy sis of Hanumans epic role. In contrast to the academic literature, which seems to be biased towards incarnate gods like Ram, Lakshmi, Krishna, Shiva, and Kali, t here is a wealth of popular literature devoted to an elaboration of Hanumans expl oits. Hanuman Charit(Gotham 1980) tells the story of Hanumans life and deeds in f orty-one separate episodes. Hanuman Jivan Charitra,published under the auspices of Randhir Book Sales (n.d.), provides a similar rendition in forty episodes. Tw o different books with the same title, Hanuman Upasna (Rajesh Dixit 1978; S. Sha stri 1986), combine a telling of Hanumans life story with commentaries on selecte d verses from Tulasi Dass poems. These two volumes also give detailed instruction s on the mechanics of Hanuman worship: an itemized list of ritual tools and ingr edients, a description of when and how to sprinkle water on the image of Hanuman , how and with what to prepare prasad, what mantras to recite in what order, and how to perform arti (special puja with fire). Hanuman Rahasyam(S. M. Shastri 19 82), Hanuman Jyotish(J. S. Shastri n.d.), Shri Hanuman Stuthi(P. Sharma 1985), a nd Ekmukhi, Panchmukhi Hanuman Kawach (Dehati Pustak Bhandar n.d.d) also provide detailed outlines for the performance of specific types of worship. In addition to these volumes, designed for use as practical handbooks for the propitiation of Hanuman, religious bookstores often publish selected verses from Tulasi Dass c orpus of works. One of the largest publishers of works in Hindi, the Dehati Pust ak Bhandar, annually reprints a collection of verses from the Ramacaritamanasa, Hanumanbahuk, Hanuman Chalisa, Sankatmochan, and Hanuman Arti. These are collect ively entitled Hanumanbahuk (n.d.a). Dehati Pustak Bhandar also publishes two ot her pamphlets, Hanumansathika (n.d.b), and Bajrang Ban (n.d.c). This literature bears witness to Hanumans tremendous popularity. The fact that there is a conside rable market for such religious self-help manuals is indicative of the fact that

Hanuman remains a folk-deity in a modern context. He is accessible not only by v irtue of his practical appeal but also because his worship is not regarded as es oteric or privileged. It is populist, available for mass consumption. The implic ations of this are significant. Publication of detailed manuals in Hindi effecti vely makes anyone who is able to read an expert religious functionary. The publi cation of knowledge also serves to personalize the nature of ones interaction wit h Hanuman. By no longer being dependent on ritual specialists with esoteric know ledge, one can appropriate for oneself the methods and means for worship. Althou gh the public worship of Hanuman through the agency of temple priests and specia lists remains a mainstay of religious life, I have found that among wrestlers, a t least, there is a deeply felt private identification with Hanuman on a persona l level. This is not, I might add, the kind of ecstatic identification found in various bhakti cults. As we shall see, this personal identification with Hanuman takes many forms. On a manifest level, however, it is evident in the daily rout ine of the wrestlers worship. In the morning wrestlers clean Hanumans shrine with buckets and buckets of water, sometimes scrubbing the marble floor until it shin es. Old flower garlands and stubs of incense are removed and the image of Hanuma n is bathed with fresh water. Vermilion and ocher paste are prepared and the who le image of Hanuman is painted so that it radiates with a red-orange brilliance. Flower garlands are placed around the image, incense is lighted, and Hanuman is clothed and made comfortable. Although occasionally specialists are called into the akhaaraa to perform a ritual of grand proportions, such as Nag Panchami, us ually wrestlers themselves do the puja. In response to my persistent questions o n the role and importance of religious functionaries I was told that everyone in an akhaaraa is qualified to perform puja. It is not regarded as a specialized s kill. It is a public obligation based on private devotion. Hanuman is generally regarded as the son of Anjana, a nymph who was cursed with a simian appearance, and Kesari, a high-ranking warrior in Sugrivas monkey army (Bulcke 1960: 394). Ho wever, in many mythic versions of Hanumans birth, paternity is ascribed to Vayu, the wind. Vayu is accused of surreptitiously impregnating Anjana. Acknowledging his paternity, but in recompense for undermining Anjanas moral fidelity, he besto wed a boon of windlike speed and strength on Hanuman, his unborn son. Hanumans re lationship to Vayu is significant on a symbolic level. Through association with prana (vital breath) vayu is regarded as the purest of all elements. It is also thought to be the root substance from which fire, water, and earth are derived. Following the Yogashastras, Aryan suggests that the vital energy of Brahma is ma nifest in the air, and that the power associated with airomnipotence and immortal ityis transferred to Hanuman through the winds paternity (n.d.: 72). All of this, of course, relates to the general yogic principle encoded in wrestling vyayam wh ere breath and proper breathing is regarded as an essential act of devotional ex ercise. Hanuman is also regarded as the eleventh incarnation of Shiva (Bulcke 19 60: 399; S. Shastri 1986: 13). According to one mythic version, Anjana was impre gnated with Shivas

seed. In answer to Kesaris request for a child, Shiva took his seed (previously s pilled at the sight of Vishnu in the guise of beautiful Mohini) and poured it in to Anjanas ear. According to Aryan it was Vayu who impregnated Anjana through her ear (n.d.: 73). In any case, from this seed Hanuman was born (Gotham 1980: 78). Hanuman is commonly regarded as the incarnation of Shivas Rudra form. Rudra is th e manifestation of both creative and destructive cosmological forces and is ofte n associated with fire (Aryan n.d.: 69). In this regard, Hanuman is often associ ated with the color red, and some wrestlers have told me that for this reason re d is the color best suited for a wrestling langot. The earth of the pit is often referred to as red, and there is a direct correlation between the wrestlers earthbesmeared body and the red ochre paste used to beautify images of Hanuman. Hanum an is similarly associated with fire and the color red in various mythic context s: by trying to eat the sun, being a student of the sun, burning Lanka, and thro ugh the radiant brilliance of his own fiery body. Two stories explain the nature of Hanumans supernatural power: Once when he was young, Hanuman flew into the sk y to catch and eat the sun which he mistook for a piece of fruit. The sun only j ust managed to escape from Hanumans grip and asked Indra the sky god for help. In dra agreed to help, and when Hanuman tried again to catch the sun Indra hit him on the chin and broke his jaw. Hanuman fell wounded to the earth. Angered by Ind ra, Hanumans father Pavanadeva (or Vayu), the wind, stopped all life by making it impossible for anyone to breathe. To appease the wind, Brahma used his power to heal Hanuman, and in addition gave him a boon of immortality and divine knowled ge. On account of breaking his jaw, Indra gave Hanuman his name: Hanu meaning ch in or jaw. Indra also gave Hanuman a boon of incomparable strength. In his turn the sun bestowed on Hanuman a boon of unsurpassed wisdom, radiant brilliance and the ability to change form at will. Yamraj gave to Hanuman a boon of perfect he alth. Kuber bestowed on him victory in all battles. Varuna promised that Hanuman would never suffer any harm from water. Vishvakarman gave Hanuman the boon of l ong life and protection against all kinds of dangerous weapons. In his turn Shiv a gave Hanuman immunity from his trident. Yama bestowed on Hanuman a boon of unc hanging youth (Rajesh Dixit 1978: 31). In this way all of the gods gave to Hanum an either a portion of their power or else protection from their power. One vers ion of the story concludes with Brahma making the following sage remarks: Now hea r this Pavanadeva, this son of yours will have the quickest and sharpest mind of all, he will be faster than anyone can imagine and he will be able to change hi s form at will. He will have tremendous courage and will be known by everyone. D uring the time of the battle between Rama and Ravana he will take on the form of Ramas true and devout bhakta [one who performs bhakti]. In this form he will sat isfy the spiritual needs of his own bhaktas by filling their hearts with adorati on (ibid). One of the most striking features of Hanumans character is that he appe ars to be the essence of all divine power manifest in one form. He has the speed of the wind, the

radiance of fire and immunity from water. As the essence of virility, he is able to bestow fertility on barren women and potency on men. He can tell the future and cure diseases. He is a master musician, a sage interpreter of the shastras, and a great grammarian (Bulcke 1960: 397). He is a warrior par excellence: immor tal, tireless, and strong beyond compare. He is also capable of fervent and abso lute devotion. Essentially he is all-powerful and allloving. Each of his manifol d abilities is regarded in different instances as more or less important than ot hers. It is together, however, that they constitute an aura of generalized super natural power. This generalized aura of shaktiinclusive of bhakti and brahmachary ais an essential component of Tulasi Dass poetry. One important event presages Han umans role in the Ramayana. While growing up, Hanuman enjoyed playing in a garden near a sannyaasi hermitage. He played tricks on the hermits by spilling their h oly water, pulling their beards, and disturbing them while they tried to meditat e and perform yoga. Frustrated, the hermits cursed Hanuman (some versions say on the instruction of his distraught father and mother) by making him forget that he possessed phenomenal strength. Only when reminded of his abilities by someone else is Hanuman able to exercise his divine mandate of strength, speed and chan ging form. The majority of stories about Hanuman derive from one or another vers ion of the Ramayana. In summary Hanumans role is as follows. As a devout Ram-bhak ta, Hanuman goes in search of Rams princess bride, Sita, who has been abducted by Ravana, a demon king from Lanka. Hanuman finds Sita in Ravanas garden where he g ives her Rams ring as a sign of good faith. He is captured by Ravanas guards and a fter engaging in a lively debate with the demon king, an oil-saturated cloth is tied to his tail and lighted. Turning this torture into a weapon of destruction, Hanuman lays waste the city of Lanka by jumping from roof to roof setting every house on fire. Hanuman returns and tells Ram of the situation. Accompanied by S ugrivas army of monkeys and bears, Ram attacks Lanka. After numerous great battle s in which Hanuman defeats many of Ravanas great warriors, Rams brother Lakshman i s mortally wounded. Hanuman is sent in search of a root which will cure Lakshman . Not being able to distinguish the correct root, Hanuman carries back the whole mountain on which the root is said to grow. Lakshman is cured and Ram finally k ills Ravana and everyone returns to Ayodhya where Ram is crowned king. Hanuman r emains at his side as servant, suppliant, and warrior. In all stories about Hanu man, two features stand out as the most important aspects of his character: his strength, and his devotion to Ram. Although brahmacharya is not often mentioned with regard to Hanumans epic role, it too is an integral aspect of his character, a requisite condition for both his strength and his devotion. Shakti The primar y connotation of the term shakti is the life force that maintains the universe. Woodroffe (1929) has provided a complete analysis of the concept through a theol ogical interpretation of scriptural references. It is not my purpose here to ent er into a discussion

of the theological nature of shakti and shakti worship. My concern is with the w restlers conception of shakti as manifest in Hanuman. Although shakti denotes a p urely metaphysical concept of divine power, it is also used to articulate more b asic human experiences. Shakti can refer to the abstract aura of cosmic creation and the attendant metaphors of divine procreation reflected in the union of Shi va/Shakti. More often it is used as a generic term to refer to any form of energ y or power. In her discussion of shakti in village ritual life, Wadley has made this point clearly. Anything which is regarded as capable of exerting a force ov er human actions is thought to have shakti. What distinguishes shakti from bal ( brute force and raw strength) is that shakti transcends the merely physical natu re of power (1975: 55). Wadley uses an unfortunate analogy to illustrate the dis tinction between shakti and bal. She says that bal is like a wrestlers strength, whereas shakti is a divine quality (ibid: 59). While in principle the distinctio n holds true, in fact many wrestlers associate their strength with the latent an d pervasive power of divine shakti. Wrestlers often make a distinction between t heir strength as shakti and the mundane bal of a manual laborer such as a ricksh aw puller or construction worker. As one wrestler explained, shakti is like a la tent resource upon which one can draw for strength. Bal, on the other hand, is p urely active energy in the sense that it is manifest only in an actual event in which force is exerted. Trying to explain the nature of shakti, J. K. Pathak, a wrestler and one-time professor of physical education at Banaras Hindu Universit y, used the analogy of horsepower. Shakti, he said, is the potential energy of a ny object. Shakti can be reflected as bal, but bal is only a fraction of the sum of an objects total potential energy. Shakti itself is made manifest on those oc casions when the purely physical is transcended or when bal is so great as to ha ve supernatural proportion. Wrestlers often use the term shakti very loosely, la rgely because from their perspective strength is never a purely physical propert y. For instance, a strong wrestler is said to have great shakti. A person who ea ts large amounts of ghi is also said to have shakti by virtue of his abnormal ca pacity. Nevertheless, when the term is used explicitly and self-consciously to d escribe a phenomenal event, it is clear that shakti is regarded as emanating fro m a confluence of physical strength, devotion, self-realization, and self-contro l. Shakti-shali is used to describe the radiance of a wrestlers body, the gleam i n his eye, his passive and devout disposition and also the size of his neck, arm s, and thighs. A strong person who does not lead a good and moral life is not re garded as having shakti. Thugs, bullies, and gang leadersanyone who makes a spect acle of his strength or who uses strength to advance selfish interestsis regarded as physically strong but morally weak, as having bal but not shakti. (Bal is no t necessarily pejorative, merely mundane.) Conversely, one does not have to have great bal to have shakti. A relatively thin wrestler may radiate shakti by virt ue of his devotion to Hanuman. Hanuman is regarded as a manifestation of shakti (Wolcott 1978: 58), and in this regard he reflects many of the vital forces asso ciated in other contexts with Nag. Hanuman is the

essence of strength and virility. In temples and shrines Hanumans image is often found in association with lingams which are clearly symbols of shakti as a creat ive life force. The notion of shakti associated with Shiva lingams is somewhat a bstract. Lingams represent the cosmic and metaphysical nature of shakti as the a gency through which the dynamic force of the universe is maintained. In response to a question on the nature of this shakti, one wrestler simply took me over to a shrine and wafted the air in my direction, asking if I could feel the energy. Beyond the overt sexual symbolism of the phallic lingam which is itself abstract ed to a high degreethere is not much in the way of tangible common sense meaning associated with it. The symbolism of the lingam does not evoke a set of meanings which are easily comprehensible in terms of everyday life. In contrast to the m etaphysical and somewhat opaque nature of the energy symbolized by lingams, Hanu man evokes a notion of concrete, manifest shakti. This is not to say that Hanuma ns shakti is different in kind from that of Shivas (for Hanuman is in fact his inc arnation); Hanumans shakti is simply more tangible on a number of levels. For ins tance, by virtue of his boon of wisdom, Hanuman makes comprehensible the incompr ehensible knowledge of Brahma. He reflects a fraction of the suns power, thus mak ing what is beyond compare comparable. By being as fast as the wind he gives for m to what is formless. Hanumans power falls on a liminal plane between the supern atural and the merely human. His feats are superhuman but still natural. What th is means is that Hanuman functions as a mediating symbol through which human act ions can be regarded in terms of divine shakti. For the wrestler this is very im portant. Through Hanuman he can see the divine nature of his own strength. Hanum an is often depicted as a strong-bodied warrior-bhakta, mace in one hand, mounta in in the other. Popular calendar art shows Hanuman in graphic, technicolor deta il, with a golden-red, muscled body of larger-than-life proportions striking ter ror into the hearts of Lankas rank and file. Wrestlers identify with these visual representations, but more than anything else it is the popular verses from Tula si Dass Ramacaritamanasa which evoke the meaning of shakti. One morning at Akhaar aa Bara Ganesh I was introduced to a young man who performed the duties of templ e priest by offering prayers and prasad and bathing and clothing Lord Hanuman. A few of the members sitting with me under the pipal tree next to the well called the priest over and asked him to sing a few verses for them. One man explained that the young priest had one of the best voices in the area and could sing prai ses to Lord Hanuman like no one else. The priest obliged with a rendition of som e verses from the Ramacaritamanasa. As he sang the wrestlers reclined on the cem ent dais around the pipal, and, massaging one another and rubbing off the akhaar aa earth from their bodies, receded into the revery of a vision invoked by the p riests vibrato voice. Every time the priest stopped, pleading voices asked for mo re, until he was finally able to make his escape. Still singing softly, now to h imself, he went over to where a small gada lay and started swinging it steadily, allowing each pendulum swing to punctuate the meter of his verse until the

exertion took its toll and the hymn faded into the exercise and strength that it recalled in deeds glorified by visionary poetics: Says Tulasi, in the sky with that great tail extended shone he, Seeing him the warriors gibbered, he was as t errible as Death, As a treasury of Brightness, as a thousand fiery suns, His cla ws were terrifying, his face all red with anger. Thereupon, Hanuman became as hu ge as a mountain, with a body of golden hue and splendid majesty like that of a second mountain king. Roaring like a lion again and again, he cried, I shall leap across the salt ocean; it is childs play to me! When I have slain Ravana and all his allies, I shall come back here with Mount Trikuta uprooted (Kishkindha 4. 29 , in Wolcott 1978: 658). For the wrestler listening to these and countless other verses, Hanumans shakti is both fabulous and yet fundamentally comprehensible in terms of everyday notions of strength, courage and bravery. As Hanuman uproots a mountain, so a wrestler lifts up his opponent. As Hanumans body radiates with a sun like glow, so the wrestler imagines his own body to be a lustrous icon of s trength. As Hanuman battles with the demon-generals of Ravanas army, so the wrest ler pits himself against his opponents. A wrestler can never hope to become as s trong or courageous as Hanuman. Nevertheless, through him the terms of strength and courage are made manifest in graphic detail. Hanuman represents the translat ion of abstract supernatural powerthe cosmic notion of shaktiinto more accessible but no less dramatic terms. Hanumans strength, while it may appear to be purely p hysical, is, in essence, the direct result of devotion and self-control. Bhakti Like shakti, bhakti has a general meaning from which the wrestlers derive specif ic significance for their everyday lives. Broadly defined, bhakti is a form of s piritual devotion which entails a mystical or ecstatic experience of divine love . It is a dominant theme in Tulasi DassRamacaritamanasa (Babineau 1979: 133192; R. K. Tripathi 1977: 125140). Since bhakti is a highly individualized form of adora tion which involves a mystical and

ineffable union with god, it is difficult to say what the experience of bhakti m eans to the enraptured devotee. In general, however, ultimate bhakti, like the e xperience of mystical bliss, is total absorption into the godhead; an experience of total release and total dependence on divine grace. A bhakta takes great ple asure in singing the praises of god. Tulasi Das enumerates nine frames of refere nce for the bhakta: 1) fraternity with sannyaasis; 2) concentration on the lila (play) of the god; 3) service to the guru; 4) singing gods praises; 5) reciting t he name of god; 6) self-control and abnegation; 7) seeing the world as part of g od, god in the world, and honoring the saint as greater even than god; 8) conten tment with ones lot; and 9) complete, blissful but emotionless surrender to god ( R. K. Tripathi 1977: 133). What is most significant about bhakti is that it arti culates a spiritual attitude which goes beyond mere supplication and ritual to d efine a whole religious personality. One is never just occasionally a bhakta: bh akti is a way of life. In the Ramacaritamanasa, Lakshman, Bharat, Vibhishan, and Sita are all said to have devotional love for Ram. However, it is Hanuman who m ost deeply personifies a pervasive attitude of pure bhakti (Raghaveshananda 1980 ; Sridattasarma 1966). As Wolcott has pointed out, Hanumans shakti derives direct ly fromhis adoration of Lord Ram (1978: 660). In the Tulasi Ramayana, Hanuman at tributes everythinghis jump to Lanka, his skill as a wrestler-warrior, and his wi sdomto Ram. On their first meeting in the Kishkindha forest, Hanuman falls at the feet of Ram and vows his undying devotion. Throughout the Ramacaritamanasa Hanu man is described as thinking on Ram or keeping the image of Ram in his minds eye befo re embarking on any task. Perhaps the most telling depiction of Hanumans bhakti i s the following well-known story from the Ramayana: Sita gives Hanuman a garland which she had been given previously by Ram. Examining the gift, Hanuman finds t hat Rams name is not inscribed on the garland. He proceeds to tear the garland ap art and eat it. When asked why he did this he explains that nothing is of use to him unless inscribed with the name of Ram. Asked why he does not then abandon h is body, Hanuman tears open his chest to reveal Ram and Sita seated in his heart . In another scene from the Ramayana, as interpreted by Rajesh Dixit (1978: 81), Hanuman falls at Rams feet after returning from his sojourn to Lanka. Wanting to embrace Hanuman, Ram tells him to get off his feet. But Hanuman refuses saying that he would not risk the pride that such an act would foster in his heart. He would rather remain a humble suppliant at the feet of his Lord. For the wrestler , the lesson of Hanumans bhakti towards Ram is very clear. Just as Hanuman is hel pless without the shakti he derives from his love for Ram, so the wrestler is po werless without a similar commitment of devotion to Hanuman. Hanumans relationshi p to Ram provides a model for the wrestlers general attitude of adoration towards Hanuman. For many people Hanuman provides a conduit through which they may expe rience Rams

love. For the wrestler, however, Hanuman is himself the primary object of devoti on and prayer. Although there are wrestlers for whom Hanuman worship is the expr ess focus of single aspects of their livessinging hymns, performing puja every mo rning, fasting on Saturdaysfor the vast majority of wrestlers, bhakti is adopted as an integral but unselfconscious aspect of everyday life. It is neither restri cted by time or place, nor limited to event or institution. What this means may be explained as taking on a devotional attitude towards the routine of life: a m undane, bhakti personality. The wrestler seeks to live his life as though every thought is of Hanuman and every breath a devotional prayer. However, he must do this as he goes about his daily routine: walking to work, working, exercising, r esting, and eating. As previously indicated, wrestlers must keep the image of Ha numan fixed in their minds eye when they exercise. As one wrestler explained, thi s gives one peace of mind. Thinking of Hanuman, there is almost nothing that a wre stler cannot do. But should he not hold the image of Hanuman in his heart, exerc ise and training will be of no use. The same principle holds true for other aspe cts of life. A wrestler who owns a business must conduct his affairs in a way wh ich is in keeping with a general attitude of bhakti. For example one wrestler wh o owns a pan stall has transformed his shop into a quasi-shrine by painting it a holy ochre tint and filling it with pictures of Hanuman, Shiva, and other gods. More importantly, he sings hymns as he conducts his business. Other wrestlers d o not affect a formal religious attitude to this extent but they do point out th at as they go about delivering milk, selling coal, or trading buffalos they try to keep their heart and mind focused on Hanuman. Bhakti entails contemplation of Hanumans character, and Hanumans character is revealed through his deeds as descr ibed in the Ramacaritamanasa. Just as Hanumans superhuman strength provides a mod el for the wrestlers physical aspirations, Hanumans bhakti provides a model for co ntemplation. To think on Hanumanas wrestlers are want to sayis to think of the power of his love for Ram. While ecstatic bhakti entails the fervent singing of hymns , the bhakti of the wrestlers everyday life revolves around the recitation of mem orized verses from the Ramacaritamanasa or the popular Hanuman Chalisa. It is co mmon to hear wrestlers and other bhaktas reciting poetic stanzas under their bre ath as they sit in their shops or go about their business. The recitation of poe tic stanzas not only articulates the bhaktas devotion, the verses themselves ofte n underscore the nature of Hanumans bhakti: Enraptured in Lords deeds fore eer thou art, Dwelling in Ram, Lakshman and Sitas heart. All that on earth one finds hard to do, Simple becomes when one is blessed with you All suffering and all anguis h of deep pain, End when one dwells on mighty Hanumans name. Distress shall end, all anguish cease as well, When on mighty Hanuman your mind will dwell.

Hanumans bhakti not only provides a model for the wrestlers general attitude towar ds his everyday life, it also provides a model for his relationship to his guru. As pointed out previously, the guru-chela relationship is paramount in the akha araa. A wrestler must surrender himself to the service of his guru. Service of t his sortrubbing his feet, washing his clothes, running his errandsis not intended as an obligation but as an act of devotion. There are many stories of Hanumans ex ploits which illustrate his bhakti-service to Lord Ram. One in particular will s erve as an example. Hanumans service to Ram was so complete that Lakshman, Sita, Shatrugan, and Bharat found themselves unable to do anything for their Lord. The y were unable to show their devotion. They decided that to be fair everyone woul d be assigned a particular duty through which they could serve Ram. As the dutie s were divided up, Hanuman was left off the roster. Sita asked him how he felt a bout this and Hanuman said, It is service enough that I should sing the praises o f Ram whenever my Lord yawns. Everyone agreed to this. Because no one could tell when Ram would yawn, Hanuman had to stay with him at all times, a situation whic h pleased Hanuman to no end. The others were disgruntled since Hanuman was in th e enviable position of not only being with Ram at all times but right in front o f him, looking into his face to be sure that no yawn went unnoticed. Lakshman, B harat, and the others told Hanuman that this would not do. Rather than protest, however, Hanuman went and sat in a corner of the palace and started endlessly si nging Rams praises. When asked what he was doing, he explained that since he no l onger knew when Ram would yawn he simply had to sing Rams praises all the time in order to perform his duty. Seeing Hanuman singing with such devotion, Ram was m oved to tears and could not ask his bhakta to stop. When Lakshman and the others asked Hanuman to desist, he replied saying that he would comply only if no rest rictions were put on his service to the Lord. The others had no option but to ag ree to this bhakti blackmail. Like Hanuman and his compatriots, wrestlers compet e for the honor of being of greatest service to their guru. A wonderful story is told about how, as a young disciple, Guru Ram Singh served his own guru. One da y Ram Singhs guru needed some special dal and asked his ward to go and fetch half a kilogram from the market. Ram Singh dashed off and searched every store in th e market but was not able to find the required item. He was told that such dal w as only found in Calcutta. Off went Ram Singh to the train station and bought a ticket to the city. He returned three days later, half a kilogram of dal in hand , and went immediately to his gurus house. His guru, not a little perturbed, aske d what had taken so long, and Ram Singh explained. Rather than being rebuked for his impertinence at having wasted time and money for such an insignificant amou nt of dal, Ram Singh was praised by his guru for having provided such selfless s ervice. Although service manifests itself in practical ways, it is also reflecte d in less tangible form through living a moral and righteous life, coming early to the akhaaraa, and hanging on ones gurus every word.

Since the persona of the guru is divine, service to ones guru is indeed an act of supplication, a religious duty. Just as the wrestler is enjoined to keep the im age of Hanuman in mind, so must he think upon his guru. One wrestler went so far as to say, As we worship Hanuman, so we worship the guru. It is the same thing. T his is, in fact, understandable, since Hanuman is not only the wrestlers ishta de vta (primary deity) but also his sat guru (true or great guru). From the supplia nts perspective, the distinction between guru and deity is simply a matter of deg ree. In every instance that puja was done in front of the Hanuman shrine at Akha araa Ram Singh, a framed portrait of the founding guru was brought out and place d next Hanumans image. The two figures comprise an indivisible pair. In general, Hanumans devotion to Ram provides a clear and pragmatic model for the incorporati on of bhakti into everyday life. Hanuman embodies many of the devotional virtues to which wrestlers subscribe. Brahmacharya From the wrestlers perspective, Hanum ans most important character trait is his brahmacharya, his complete celibacy and self control. As one wrestler said: Hanuman is the form of brahmacharya. If wres tlers are brahmacharis then they will do well. This is why Hanuman is manifest i n the akhaaraa. In one way or another every wrestler I asked about his devotion t o Hanuman explained his reverence in terms of Hanumans brahmacharya. Self-control is an arduous task, and wrestlers look to Hanuman for both guidance in how to r emain celibate and also for a general validation of the virtue of brahmacharya. While the attributes of shakti and bhakti define the largest part of Hanumans cha racter, his brahmacharya is taken for granted. It is only occasionally mentioned in myth and folklore. In one story (Bulcke 1960: 400; OFlaherty 1984: 95, 96) Ha numan is approached by a demigod named Matsyaraja, otherwise known as Matsyagarb ha, who claims to be his son. Hanuman protests, saying that this is impossible g iven that he is celibate. Matsyarajas birth is explained, however, by the fact th at drops of Hanumans sweat were swallowed by a fish while Hanuman was bathing in the ocean. The sweat impregnated the fish and Matsyaraja was born. The only othe r overt mythic reference to Hanumans chastity is found in the Ramayana. While in search of Sita, Hanuman finds himself in Ravanas queens dressing chamber. The powe r of his brahmacharya is so great, however, that he is not distracted by desire (Bulcke 1960: 401). Stories of Hanumans conception and birth are also evidence of his celibate character. Many versions say that Anjana was impregnated through o ne ear and that Hanuman was

born through the other. He is thus said to have had no direct contact with sex a s such (cf. Wolcott 1978: note 661; Aryan n.d.: note 73). To some extent these e xplicit statements of Hanumans self-control are beside the point. For the wrestle r there is no question but that both Hanumans shakti and his bhakti derive direct ly from brahmacharya. Every reference to his strong body and incomparable devoti on is a tribute to his absolute celibacy. The reverse logic applies as well. Sha kti and bhakti enable Hanuman to be a perfect brahmachari. One wrestler made the following observation: Unless one is always a brahmachariwhich is to say always h ave a tight langotone will never do well. Only then can one be strong. In order to remain a brahmachari one must be a bhakta. If a person is not a bhakta then ones mind will wander from the goal of brahmacharya. Shakti, bhakti, and brahmacharya constitute a powerful tautological conundrum: a spiral of ever-increasing virtue and strength based on moral control and devotion. Hanuman represents the conflu ence of these forces. His exploits demonstrate the veracity of their interrelati onship. Brahmacharya is taken for granted as the underlying basis for much of wh at Hanuman does. But while shakti and bhakti are given a concrete form in Hanuma n, the concept of brahmacharya remains somewhat abstract. It is alluded to throu gh the sexual symbolism of virility manifest in the color red and in the phallic mace which Hanuman carries, but aside from these specific signs, brahmacharya i s not explicitly coded in temple images, popular art, or mythic poetics. The rul es for the practice of brahmacharya, discussed previously in the context of body discipline, complement and often underscore the devotional prescriptions for bh akti. A theme which emerges consistently in any consideration of brahmacharya, i s the need to keep ones mind focused on pure and moral virtues. To sing the prais es of god and to think on god are the best ways to insure that one does not dwell on sensual, worldly gratification. The complementary natures of bhakti and brahm acharya are clearly manifest in Hanuman. Insofar as Hanuman is completely absorb ed in the contemplation of Ram, the world of sensory satisfaction pales in compa rison to the invigorating bliss of service and devotion. 9. The Sannyaasi and th e Wrestler A recurrent theme in the preceding chapters is that of world renuncia tion as a moral value subscribed to by wrestlers. We have seen that wrestlers tu rn their backs on worldly pleasure and sensory satisfaction. There are many form al parallels between the life of a wrestler and the life of a world-renouncing s annyaasi. Both are concerned with a disciplinary regimentation of the body, alth ough in different ways; both seek a goal of self-realization, although for sligh tly different reasons; and both avoid many of the trappings of a social life, al though, again, to different degrees and with different implications. In any case , wrestlers

make an explicit comparison between their chosen life path and the life path of world renunciation. In this chapter I will explore the nature of this comparison . The formal aspects of a wrestlers way of life have been outlined above. Therefo re, I will begin with a general theoretical discussion of world renunciation so as to define the framework within which a comparison of the wrestler and the san nyaasi becomes significant. In the second part of the chapter the implications o f the comparison will be discussed with regard to larger questions of identity. Wrestlers see sannyas in objective terms as a generic category with certain dist inguishing characteristic traits (cf. Farquhar 1918; Ghurye 1953; Oman 1983). Th is is a crucial point for the argument which follows. The sannyaasi of which the wrestler speaks is a figment of his ideological imagination. He is not a partic ular sannyaasia Shaiva Aghori or a Vaishnava Tyagibut an amalgam constructed to fi t, analogically, with the wrestlers conception of his own somatic identity and ic onic notion of self. The thesis of this chapter is that wrestlers co-opt the val ues inherent in a life of asocial world renunciation and transpose these values onto their unique life path. This transposition has important implications. The sannyaasi is, unlike the worldly grihastha (householder), an individual-outsidethe-world whose orientation is egalitarian in a devotional and disciplined sense rather than hierarchical, an orientation, as we will see, towards principles of nationalism rather than principles of caste. Sannyaasi In a well-known article Dumont (1960) argues that Hinduism, among other Indian r eligions, is best understood not in terms of its historical diversity and seemin gly infinite permutations, but rather in terms of some basic relational categori es. The categories Dumont offers are, on the one hand, the asocial world-renounc ing sannyaasi whose religion is based on individuality, and, on the other hand, the eminently worldly grihastha whose religion is based on sociomoral duty. Dumo nt argues that Hinduism emerges, as it were, through the dialogue between these two categories. The opposition is never resolved, but the dialectical tension cr eates situations in which the values inherent in one category are accommodated i n the other. Beneath the partly substantialized form of popular religious movement s and sects, Dumont argues, one can recognize the dynamic tension between the op posed categories (ibid: 61). Dumonts argument has been acclaimed and criticized m any times on many different levels, and my purpose is not to revive this oldand s ome might say tireddebate once again. Nevertheless, one point which Dumont makes must be emphasized if we are to understand the nature of the wrestler/sannyaasi comparison. Although the dialogue

between the sannyaasi and the man-in-the-world persists as a leitmotif in Hindu development, Dumont is adamant that in terms of worldly Hinduism there is no suc h thing as the individual (ibid: 42). When recognized and understood as a concep tual and practical reality, individuality is strictly the province of otherworld ly asceticism. To appreciate Dumonts point, it must be remembered that for him th e bottom line is always relational rather than substantive or empirical. In this regard he writes: The man-in-theworlds adoption of notions which are essentially those of the renouncer should not conceal from use the difference between the tw o conditions and the two kinds of thought (ibid: 46). The terms of world renuncia tion cannot be reconciled to the terms of caste society. The Brahman may affect the values of world renunciation, but his life of dharma is always couched in te rms of the structuring principles of hierarchy, rather than in accordance with e galitarian principles. According to Dumonts scheme, any instance where there appe ars to be a reconciliation of these two domains in social life is a substantiali stic illusion: a superstructure of empirical form beneath which lies the truth o f a primary oppositional relationship. The problem with Dumonts thesis, in my vie w, is that it defines caste, on its most basic and inclusive, holistic level, as a closed system, one able to subsume innovations, anomalies, rebellions, religi ous conversion, and so forth within the terms of its primary relational categori es. Dumonts scheme, like the structural typologies of Lvi-Strauss, is so inclusive as to be reductionist when applied to the narrower scope of everyday life. Dumo nts framework allows one to understand sectarian movementsbhakti, Tantrism, Buddhi sm, and so forthin terms of caste holism. He does not, however, provide a corolla ry scheme for making sense of these various movements in their own terms. While one may agree with Dumont and recognize the primacy of purity and pollution as t he basic terms of caste society, one must also accept the fact that these are no t the only terms in which social order is conceptualized (cf. Carman and Marglin 1985; Daniel 1984; Madan 1987; Marriott and Inden 1977; also see Appadurai 1986 and Berreman 1979 for a generalized critique of Dumont in this regard). Other c ategories which structure significant thought and action cannot, or need not, be conveniently reduced to Dumonts first principles. However, as Das reminds us, th ough hierarchy is not an exhaustive conceptual framework for social order (1977: 51), it nevertheless defines the matrix of social power. This said, we may now return to the issue of the sannyaasi. In a recent book, Khare (1984) has taken a line of thinking similar to Dass but with important modifications. Khare shows h ow low-caste Chamars in the Lucknow region of Uttar Pradesh have repossessed the b asic terms of world renunciation in order to reconstruct an image of themselves outside of the framework of caste relations (ibid: 30). They have done this thro ugh a radical reinterpretation of the terms of world renunciation, and by forcin g the sannyaasi into a socially significant role (ibid: 67). The Chamars have es sentially constructed an ideology wherein the individuality of the sannyaasihis s piritual, asocial virtueis

conceptually linked to a modern understanding of this-worldly asceticism. Where the Brahman mediates between world renunciation and householder status wit hin a framework of caste hierarchy, the Chamars co-opt the terms of world renunc iation in order to step outside of the hierarchical scheme altogether (cf. Juerg ensmeyer 1982 for a similar, though less explicit account, and Uberoi 1967 for a n early theoretical formulation of this point in the context of Sikhism). Khare clearly shows how certain groups have worked towards a redefinition of their ide ntity in terms other than caste. In reading Khares account of a burgeoning Chamar ideology, however, one is struck by the fact that it is, to an extent, an ideol ogy built on sand. However much it may mean to the Chamars, it is not particular ly persuasive as a general, nonsectarian appeal to which other groups might subs cribe. Similarly, Sikhs as well as Christians and other sectarian groups (includ ing,significantly, even ascetic monastic communities; cf. Ghurye 1953) are consc ripted into a hierarchical scheme despite advocacy to the contrary. The basic pr oblem is that any group which claims a new place for itselfas within the framewor k of sanskritization (Srinivas 1968)or even a group which tries to step outside of the whole scheme must ultimately come to terms with its relation to other groups within a larger hierarchically structured society. When couched in terms of gro up identity, ideological change is doomed because its appeal is artificially cir cumscribed. The Chamars can construct visions of themselves as morally guided wo rldly ascetics, but unless these reformations are recognized by people other tha n Chamars, their significance is limitedlimited, that is, if one is trying to und erstand the precise interface between Hindu ideology and other nascent ideologie s. It is at this point that wrestling becomes an important issue. Like the Chama r ideology described by Khare, the wrestling ideology reconceptualizes the relat ionship of the sannyaasi to the world. However, the ideology of the wrestler dif fers from that of the Chamar in two important ways. First, the wrestling ideolog y is not an explicit criticism of caste status. Wrestling calls for a redefiniti on of sannyas in its own terms, and this has a significant impact on the underst anding of caste as a conceptual framework. Wrestlers do not, however, attack cas te directly: for them, caste, as a structure of signification, simply does not w ork as a framework for self-definition. It is inadequate and inappropriate. Seco nd, wrestling is an ideology that transcends caste-group affiliation. Its appeal , as I have argued, is general rather than specific; it is public, and many wres tling activities create a sense of emotional, psychological, and physical unity. Because the wrestling ideology is amorphousto the extent that it is subscribed t o by a broad spectrum of people of all castes, of many occupational backgrounds, and from different regionsit does not find expression in any institutionalized, sectarian form. Even in the akhaaraa, where there is a strong sense of communita s based on somatic ideals, there is little sense of social solidarity. The ideol ogy cuts through social boundaries and appeals to the individual on reconstitute d somatic terms. What distinguishes the wrestlers appropriation of the terms of w orld renunciation from that of the Chamars and other sectarian groups is that th

e wrestler

draws a parallel between his nascent individuality and the sannyaasis spiritual i ndividuality. Chamars, on the other hand, seek to transpose the category of sann yas, through advocacy, onto the level of an institutionalized social group. As D umont and others have rightly argued, on this level sectarian movements will be subsumed within the larger and more primary framework of caste. I do not want to suggest that the wrestling ideology is a particularly powerful critique of the caste ideology. At best it is rather oblique. Unlike the partisan rhetoric of ce rtain sectarian ideologies, however, the wrestling ideology cannot be reduced to caste terms. Because its appeal is broad, if weak through such extensive diluti on, it is strong at precisely the point at which the Chamar and other sectarian ideologies are not. One primary reason for this is that the wrestlers ideology, a s I have argued, is the product of a precise mechanics of body discipline. It is not an intellectual critique, at least in the first instance, and thus it does not fall into the trap of juxtaposing a discipline of the individual body/mind o n the one hand to society on the other. Wrestling draws the moral value of world renunciation into the world and calls for a reform of the individual in terms o f a holistic somatic synthesis. Individuality then finds expression, as we shall see in the next chapter, when it is made the object of nationalistic reform. Th e Sannyaasi and the Wrestler The lives of the wrestler and the sannyaasi overlap and are comparable at a number of different points. Many of these have been all uded to in previous chapters and need only be highlighted here. On a general lev el both wrestling and sannyas are chosen ways of life. Although sannyas is techn ically the final stage of the ideal Hindu life cycle, it is an elective path. Mo reover, one can choose to become a sannyaasi at any age or station in life (Ghur ye 1953: 78). On a formal level wrestlers recognize that by joining an akhaaraa they are making a decision which is similar to the choice a sannyaasi makes when affiliating himself with a monastic order. The comparison works on a self-consc iousness level rather than in terms of institutional structure. Wrestlers think of themselves as like sannyaasis insofar as they share a certain mindset: a simi lar attitude toward the world, their consciousness, and their bodies. Wrestlers and sannyaasis are both concerned with controlling their bodies. This is not to say that they control their bodies in the same ways. For their part wrestlers re gard vyayam as very much like yoga; like sannyaasis, they must practice self-con trol in order to harness their physical energy to a higher spiritual purpose of healthy self-realization, and their diet must be regulated in order to achieve c ertain physical-cum-spiritual goals. The general principle of nonsensuality and a trenchant disregard for worldly pursuits link the two life paths together.

Some specific, gross features also connect the two life paths. Both wrestlers an d sannyaasis are known for their loincloths and near-nakedness. While sannyaasis cover themselves in ashes, wrestlers cover themselves in earth. The substances are different, but they are both termed vibhuti (power). Wrestlers wear their ha ir cropped short and sometimes have it shaved off altogether. Similarly, sannyaa sis either have their heads shaved or else let their hair grow long and matted. Obeyesekere has noted that hair is a complex, polysemic symbol of sexual power i n the context of the ascetics religious experience (1981). Given the wrestlers con cern with sexuality and strength, it would be safe to say that they, like the as cetic, work out some of the implications of their identity through the medium of hair. Shaved or not, the wrestler and the sannyaasi are distinguishable from ot her men in these terms. Sannyaasis are, of course, easily distinguishable from w restlers in a number of ways. Most significantly they do not, as a rule, wrestle . They devote their lives to wandering, begging, and pilgrimage. They eat only w hat is offered to them and are not supposed to own anything but a staff, a beggi ng bowl, rudraksha beads, and an ocher robe (Ghurye 1953: 106). They must not fi ll their stomachs with food even when it is available. Except in the monsoon the y must not stay in any place for more than two nights. The issue of food is an i nteresting one. On the one hand, sannyaasis are known for fasting and generally placing no value on the quality of food they eat. Wrestlers, on the other hand, are extraordinary eaters of very specific types of food. While this would tend t o force the wrestler and the sannyaasi into opposed categories, such is not the case. Sannyaasis, like wrestlers, try to cool their bodies down, so to speak, and thereby achieve a state of sattva harmony and peace. Gandhis political dietetics was a permutation of this ascetic ideal. Both wrestlers and sannyaasis are said to be supervirile; sannyaasis on account of their powers of yogic meditation, an d wrestlers on account of their vyayam/dietetics regimen. Therefore, they must b oth take extra care in channeling this energy away from passion. Where wrestlers eat ghi and milk, sannyaasis tend to fast and to eat fruit and other things tha t are sattva. As important as the nature of the foods eaten, is that both the sa nnyaasi and the wrestler are supported through public donation. In direct and co nscious opposition to the principles of caste purity, a sannyaasi must eat only leftover food. By eating food that is polluted a sannyaasi removes himself from th e hierarchical scheme of interdependence. By acceptingin theory if not in factfood from anyone, the sannyaasi steps outside the confines of ritual food transactio ns which structure formal social obligations, rank status, and personal purity. Unlike a sannyaasi, a wrestler does not accept food from just anyone. A wrestler depends either on his family or a wealthy patron for support. In this regard, h owever, a wrestlers relationship to his family is very different from that of a t ypical, non-wrestling family

member. Ideally a wrestler should not have to work. He is supported through the industry of his parents and siblings. Although this ideal is rarely, if ever, ac hieved, I was told by many wrestlers that in the best possible worldthe utopia of which we will speak in the next chaptera wrestler would be able totally to devot e himself to a life in the akhaaraa. Stories are told of great wrestlers of the past who at least approximated this ideal. In some instances, I was told, family property was sold to insure that the wrestlers diet would not be curtailed. I wa s also told that in the past whole villages would pool their resources to feed th eir wrestler a rich and costly diet. In this capacity the village and the family functioned much as a benevolent patron. The wrestler would be supported in much the same way as an itinerant sannyaasi whose quest for self-realization is deeme d worthy of generous support, the difference being that the wrestler maintains a high degree of identification with his patron, be that patron a raja, village c ommunity, or family group. On the level of structural relations, the sannyaasi a nd the wrestler share a common point of reference. They are both set off from th e world in terms of the nature of the food they eat and by the fact that they ar e not directly responsible for producingas distinct from processingwhat they consu me. The wrestlers dependence on his family or patron does not remove him from the world to the same degree as the sannyaasi. Nevertheless, his liminal condition with regard to food serves to bracket him off from the world where reciprocal fo od transaction structures social relations on so many different levels (cf. Appa durai 1981). In contemporary popular literature, folklore, and nineteenth and ea rly twentieth-century orientalist works on the subject, sannyaasis are depicted as performers of extreme austerities. The best known of these is, undoubtedly, t he infamous bed of nails. Oman (1983), writing in the late nineteenth century, r ecounts many cases of self-inflicted pain: sitting in cold water all night; stic king skewers through tongue and cheek; extended fasting; self-flagellation; and the self-imposed atrophy of various appendages. Wrestlers do not practice such a usterities. Nor, in fact, do many sannyaasis. They do not usually make a spectac le of their mortification. Nevertheless, the image of the sannyaasi enduring gre at pain and suffering to the end of self-realization is a popular image which ri ngs true in the mind/body of the wrestler. As seen in chapter 5, the body of the wrestler is disciplined in an analogous manner. Wrestlers often speak of shakti as a direct derivative of disciplined austerity. For example, I was told how on e ascetic protested the building of a bridge across the sacred Varuna River. Bri tish engineers had proposed a construction plan but the ascetic said that Hanuma n would not permit the plan to be implemented. The British civil engineer scoffe d at this and asked the ascetic to demonstrate to him by what means Hanuman had this kind of power over imperial authority. The ascetic said that by himself emb odying Hanumans power he could jump across the river at the proposed bridge site. The civil engineer said that if indeed such an event occurred, he would not bui ld the bridge. So the ascetic began his preparations and fasted and meditated fo r a number of months. As the story goes, his austerities were of such absolute p roportions that he assimilated Hanumans power into his

own body and successfully jumped across the river. While this is but one abbrevi ated version of a popular tale in Banaras folk history, it illustrates the power of the ascetics austerity, and implicitly correlates it with physical prowess in general and Hanumans character in particular. As pointed out previously, the wre stler is said to wear a necklace of pain in order to achieve his goal of somatic s elf-perfection. Thus, the wrestler and the sannyaasi both tap into the power of shakti by slightly different but equally rigorous means. Sannyaasis are generall y regarded as gaunt figures whose emaciation is strikingly contrasted to the ful l-figured wealth of worldly Brahmans and merchants (Dumont 1960: 45). One would think that the sannyaasis body stands diametrically opposed to that of the wrestl ers. As Staal has correctly observed, however, it is wrong to assume that the yo gic practices of sannyas are forms of ascetic mortification (19831984: 35). Yoga is , in fact, a form of physical control aimed towards perfection and harmony rathe r than towards atonement or penance. Thus, as indicated earlier, wrestling is an extension of yogic philosophy even though the strength of the wrestlers bulky bo dy appears to indicate a radically different notion of health. This fundamental commonality aside, it is important to note that there are subtle differences bet ween wrestling and sannyas as concerns development and control of the body. The sannyaasis orientation toward his body is transcendental. His goal is to achieve a state of mind which effectively takes him outside of his physical form. This i s not a mystical trick of recognizing the inherent illusionary nature of the phy sical body. It is, as alluded to by Staal (ibid), a matter of coming to terms wi th the symbiosis of the mind/body as a unitary, multilayered principle. The sann yaasi who has reached the final goal of self-realization achieves a physical sta te of samadhi. In this state his body appears lifeless but is not dead, a perfec t state of transcendental consciousness. In many temple complexes, shrines are e rected around the samadhi of an ascetic. In some akhaaraas I have seen shrines s aid to be the samadhis of great wrestlers. These wrestlers practiced austerities to the point of self-realization. It is not clear whether these samadhis are sa nnyaasis who happened to be wrestlers, wrestlers who became sannyaasis, or sanny aasis who patronized wrestling in some way or another. The word used to define t he sannyaasis austerities, tapas or tap, is also used to describe the means by wh ich the wrestlers achieved samadhi, a situation in which it seems that two relat ed forms of body discipline actually meet. The line between sannyaasi and wrestl er becomes blurred at this and other points of comparison. In the mind of a wres tler it is perfectly logical for a great wrestler to have also achieved the stat us of a great ascetic. While the wrestler identifies with many of the formal att ributes of sannyas, his attitude toward his body is manifest rather than transce ndental. By manifest I do not mean that the wrestler regards his body as any mor e real than does the sannyaasi. The wrestler, however, sees that his body is but p art of a larger ethical scheme of social relations and moral responsibility. A s annyaasi trains his body so as to leave the world; the wrestler trains his body to be immune to worldly things but to remain in the world. The sannyaasi moves a way

from the world, discarding the trappings of social life; the wrestler moves thro ugh the world cloaking himself in a mantle of ascetic values. In this regard the wrestlers strength stands for many of the same things as the sannyaasis austerity . However, the wrestlers disciplinary practicesexercise, diet, self-controlare stru ctured in manifest, social terms rather than in terms of transcendental abnegati on. In defining the meaning of the ascetic practices, the referent for sannyas i s moksha, a spiritual recognition of social life and material existence as inher ently illusionary. The moral referent for the wrestlers selfdiscipline is an idea l of collective strength and virtue. As we shall see in the next chapter, the ill usionary nature of the material world is confronted in terms of its decadence and depravity, but it is not discarded out of hand. In a sense, then, ascetic abneg ation defines the parameters of a wrestlers moral physique. It is by virtue of th e fact that the practice of sannyas has such profound spiritual, otherworldly si gnificance that the practice of wrestling is meaningful as an ethical ideology w ith worldly implications. The agency through which one point of reference is tra nslated into another is body discipline. Akhaaraas and Akhaaraas Putting the body momentarily aside, there is also an institutional level on whic h wrestlers are like sannyaasis: the akhaaraa. In its broadest sense akhaaraa me ans the social and spatial organization of any specialized group. From this gene ral definition derive two primary commonsense denotations of the term: one is, o f course, the akhaaraa as a wrestling gymnasium; the other, the akhaaraa as an a scetic monastery. In its monastic sense the term akhaaraa is used most often to define a subgrouping of the Naga sannyaasi ascetic order. The Nagas are themselv es a subgroup of the larger Dasnami order which traces its origin to Shankaracha rya in the eighth or ninth century A.D.(Ghurye 1953: 6). For a sannyaasi, the ak haaraa he belongs to, rather than the larger order of which that akhaaraa is a b ranch, is his primary point of reference for self-definition. Unlike the stereot ypical image of the passive, mystical sannyaasi, the Dasnami Nagas were and to s ome extent still are known for their military exploits. Their akhaaraas became c enters for training in martial arts and weaponry. Ghurye goes so far as to trans late akhaaraa to mean military regiment, because the Dasnami Nagas were involved i n various military campaigns at different times (1953: 116; cf. also Farquhar 19 25; J. Ghose 1930; Lorenzen 1978). During the time of Akbar and through the reig n of Aurangzeb, Dasnami Naga membership restrictions were relaxed in order to al low low-caste Shudras to join the order. Many Shudras were actively recruited si nce the Dasnami Nagas needed to increase their numbers in order to defend Hindu shrines and monastic institutions from Muslim intervention and aggression (cf. G hurye 1953: 110127; Orr 1940; Prasad 1982; J. Sarkar 1950). Shudras

were thought to be robust and thus well suited to take up arms in defense of Hin duism. By allowing Shudras to join with Brahmans, Kshatriyas, and Vaishyas, the sheer numerical strength of the order was significantly increased. Aside from th e intercaste dynamics of the Naga order, what concerns us here is the explicit a nd effective incorporation of martial practices into an ascetic way of life. Nag a combat was not a simple matter of sannyaasis taking up arms to defend themselv es. For the Nagas, fighting became an integral feature of their identity. Ghurye notes that Nagas practiced physical penance so as to make themselves physically fit and immune to pain (1953: 122). It is clear that these austerities were not purely martialin the sense of being practiced strictly for offensive warfarebut w ere, in fact, methods for achieving salvation (cf. van der Veer 1989). Ghurye re marks that since many of the Nagas were Shudras, rigorous physical training, rat her than spiritual contemplation, was thought to be a more appropriate form of a scetic discipline. This interpretation is suspect on the grounds that it makes a sharp and untenable distinction between physical and mental austerities. Moreov er, as Chattopadhyay has pointed out, the evidence of history is that there has always been a degree of ambiguity with regard to any one caste groups monopoly on martial training. In the medieval period it was quite common for Brahmans to re ceive martial training at such centers as the University of Taksasila (Chattopad hyay 1966: 54). In any case, it is not accurate to say that one caste group is e xclusively predisposed to physical training while another is more suited to myst ical contemplation and scholarly work. Whatever factor Shudra recruitment may ha ve played, it seems clear that Naga sannyaasis, like wrestlers, translated yogic spirituality into terms more compatible with worldly action. Ghurye notes that in the post-independence era Naga sannyaasis further translated their martial ar t into less aggressive terms. They now practice wrestling, gymnastics, and other forms of physical exercise (1953: 127). Many of the Naga akhaaraas have branch institutions in Banaras, and at least one of these sponsors a gymnasium on Hanum an Ghat. In this particular case the affiliation between the Naga monastic akhaa raa and the gymnasium is tenuous and unclear. It seems that the wrestling gymnas ium belongs to the monastery but is used by neighborhood residents. Oddly enough , the gymnasium is more a bodybuilding club than an akhaaraa per se, but this is probably a fairly recent development. There is also a defunct wrestling akhaara a on Manikarnika Ghat called Naga Akhaaraa. Among the wrestling members were som e Naga sannyaasis. At Rang Mahal, a wrestling akhaaraa downriver from Banaras, t here is a temple complex run by Naga sannyaasis. Although the majority of the wr estling members of the akhaaraa are Muslims, Hindu merchants, Thakurs, Brahmans, and Yadavs, Naga sannyaasis also practice wrestling. An annual wrestling tourna ment is sponsored by the Rang Mahal Akhaaraa, but this seems to be a purely secul ar event, and to the best of my knowledge no sannyaasis take part. In his study o f Ramanandi ascetics in Ayodhya, van der Veer has shown how Nagas discipline the ir bodies through the retention of semen (1989: 463). As with other

Ramanandis (tyagis and rasiks) this practice is central to the mechanism by whic h emotion and passion is directed towards devotion to Ram. The Nagas of Ayodhya seem to wrestle in much the same way as secular wrestlers in Banaras, with the imp ortant qualification that they do so as self-proclaimed ascetics. There are clea r parallels between Naga akhaaraas and wrestling akhaaraas. However, I was repea tedly and without exception told that the two types of akhaaraa have nothing to do with each other. Sannyaasis who wrestle do not subscribe wholeheartedly to th e lifestyle of wrestling. As a rule, according to secular wrestlers, they do not c ompete, and they do not drink milk or eat ghi and almonds. The two life paths ar e parallel and at points contiguous, but they are classified as distinct and sep arate. From the perspective of the wrestler, at least, this serves to maintain t he institution of sannyas as a firm reference point, similar but different. The sannyaasi who takes up arms or wrestles is never confused with his secular counter part. This point can of course be debated, and van der Veer has pointed out that in at least some Naga akhaaraas young boys come and receive training much as th ey do in the secular akhaaraas I have described (personal communication). Perhaps some Nagas wrestle competitively, and it is perfectly possible that some consume a diet of milk, ghi, and almonds. However, what is more important here than the objective truth of the matter, is that the secular wrestlers, absorbed in their ideological world, think of themselves as more unlike than like Nagas. The case of the Dasnami Nagas is significant insofar as it helps define the structural r elationship between wrestler and sannyaasi. Obvious and formal parallels aside, wrestlers see in the practice of Naga asceticism a tacit justification for their own concern for physical fitness and moral strength. In this regard the sannyaa si legitimizes the wrestlers way of life. The Naga is, in some respects, an image of what the wrestler would become if he were to renounce the world completely. The Wrestler in the World: Contradiction and Paradox While wrestlers recognize t he moral virtue of world renunciation, they are confronted with a paradox that m anifests itself in various ways. Broadly put, the problem for the wrestler is ho w to live a moral social life while trying to subscribe to values which define s ocial life as basically (if not egregiously) immoral and unhealthy. Can a wrestl er live with his wife and be celibate? Can he eat rich and expensive foods and s till dissociate himself from sensory pleasure? Can he raise a family and be immu ne from concerns for prestige and social status? Can he earn a living and find t ime to develop himself as a devout wrestler? Can he develop his body and not bec ome proud and conceited? One wrestler stated the problem as follows: A wrestlers life is like that of a sadhu. The sadhu lives in his hermitage. He worships and

does his prayers. A wrestler lives in his house and is entangled in the world of maya (illusion). He is in the grihastha ashrama. Even in this condition he must control himself. The sadhu lives apart from the world. The wrestler lives in hi s house but he must dissociate himself from the concerns of a householder. He mu st close his eyes to it and wrestle. The wrestler is equivalent to the sadhu bec ause they must both remove themselves from the grihastha ashrama and be absorbed in god. And yet the wrestler is tied to his family. He must live close to his w ife and yet turn away from temptation. A person will never be a wrestler until h e becomes like a sadhu and averts his eyes and closes his mouth to the world. Ma ny wrestlers expressed similar views. On the issue of food, one explained that w restlers must be even greater, more ascetic and self-controlled, than sannyaasis . Wrestlers fill their stomachs and yet control their desire while sannyaasis ta ke the easier route of quenching their desire through fasting or the consumption of bhang. Another wrestler developed this theme further by saying that wrestler s had to work harder at self-conrol than sannyaasis because they ate food which produced semen in greater quantities. Some wrestlers explain that a wrestler can control his semen until he has reached the age of thirty or thirty-five, at whi ch point he would have to marry and have children. I was told a story of the gre at wrestler Dara Singh, who became so strong at a young age that his family and friends quickly arranged his marriage in order to prevent the somatic equivalent of a nuclear meltdown. It is important to note here that worldly asceticism is not intrinsically paradoxical; rationalizations of one sort or another abound. V an der Veer (1989) has noted that many Ramanandi sannyaasis are wealthy, and tha t in an extended sense this can be seen as part of the larger program of ascetic devotion to Ram. Elements of a similar sort of worldly rationalization can be s een in the masti of the Chaube Brahmans of Mathura (Lynch 1990: 91115). Chaubes a lso wrestle, but like Nagas who wrestle as ascetics, Chaubes (or at least some C haubes) wrestle primarily as emotionally invigorated Brahmans. There is a devoti onal component to the Chaubes masti, whereby aspects of ascetic ideals are given ligitimate, worldly form. What the wrestling ideology does is to force the issue of asceticism in relation to grihastha religiosity into a sharp dichotomy of ei ther this worldly moral and physical weaknesswhere emotion and wealth, among othe r things, are false consciousnessor otherworldly health and strength, where pure consciousness is asocial. On the level of the body in particular, the wrestler i s likely to see things in black-and-white, either-or terms. In this regard the w restler would certainly agree with Dumont, even if Dumont is wrong. Speaking on a philosophical level, one wrestler suggested that while sannyaasis abide by the ir karma (moral work), wrestlers abide by their kriya karma (active moral work). He continued this line of thinking by saying that wrestlers and sannyaasis are alike in all but the nature of the work that they do. From the context of the disc ussion it was clear that the primary distinction being made was that a wrestlers w ork is in the nature of a social

avocation, or civic duty, whereas the moral work of a sannyaasi is independent o f any sort of social responsibility. In this regard wrestlers are clearly in ste p with Gandhi. One aspect of the type of work which a wrestler is called upon to do is, in the words of K. P. Singh, to turn others into wrestlers and eventuall y to reform the social order through such missionary efforts. A wrestler is, to bo rrow a phrase used more often in Christendom, an evangelical. Here the role of the guru is important, for although all wrestlers are called upon to perform their moral work, it is the guru whose missionary efforts are most important and effec tive. The guru, who is more often than not also a great wrestler, performs his m oral work by founding an akhaaraa. As the members grow up and achieve a level of competence, maturity, and fame, they branch off and open akhaaraas of their own . The generalized work of all wrestlers combined thus becomes national in propor tion through the compounding agency of geometric progression. Of all the worldly concerns that a wrestler must reconcile himself to, the most important is marri age and having children. I have pointed out that intense value is placed on the strict practice of brahmacharya, which serves as a moral paradigm for the wrestl er; it symbolizes his subscription to ascetic values. Significantly, it is also a unique reinterpretation of brahmacharya that serves to keep the wrestler in th e world. A common phrase among wrestlers is ek nari, brahmachari, which means th at one can be married to one woman and still be celibate. As I was told repeated ly, a wrestler may marry so long as his overall attitude towards sex and sensual ity does not change. He may have sex with his wife, but only for reproduction an d not for sensual gratification. For the wrestler, sex is work; it produces chil dren and is justified only in this regard. There is a general sense that the chi ldren produced by the agency of moral sex will be healthier and more civic-minde d than other children. Aside from considerations of sex and sexuality, marriage draws a wrestler inextricably into the worldly status of a householder. He must earn a living, raise a family and educate his children. In an article entitled Wh at is a Wrestlers Home Life Like? (1986), Munna interviews the wives of three well -known wrestlers. Not surprisingly, all three wives say that wrestling has not u ndermined their family status, which is to say, their husbands are good husbands and good wrestlers. They exercise and train hard and also provide for their fam ilies. Significantly, each of the three women says that the family is stronger b y virtue of the husbands avocation. Because of the husbands prestige as a wrestler , the family has earned social status and public respect. The general thesis of Munnas article is corroborated by many of the wrestlers I interviewed. Wrestling improves the quality of ones family life by making the householder fit and health y. The moral principles of wrestling are extended to include the larger family u nit within the domain of worldly asceticism. K. P. Singh develops this point in some detail. He points out thatgreat Indian leaders like Gandhi and M. M. Malavi ya were married but were nevertheless brahmacharis (1972a: 30). He argues for th e integration of moral virtue into social life.

Gandhi controlled himself, kept himself in check and was a brahmachari. He was a great saint and a reformist. He freed the nation. And Gandhis discipline of self -control was not contrived. . . . His was the work of the world and he would sho ulder his burden of work taking only the name of god for support. Gandhi was gre ater than Shankaracharya. Shankaracharya advocated the complete separation of me n and women, but Gandhi said that all men and women should be as brother and sis ter. He also said that the primary relationship between a man and a woman is tha t of mother and son. . . . What an excellent method for uprooting the evil of se nsuality! What a grand vision! What insight to turn sensuality into a feeling of respect and honor! We must all live in society and we all must purge the evils of social life from our thoughts. Morality must, instead, fill our minds. Shanka racharya did not make the common people of India his disciples whereas Gandhi ha d tens of thousands of followers. We must tire our bodies, focus our minds and c leanse our thoughts. We must adopt commitment and independence as our way of lif e (ibid: 31). Using Gandhi as an example, K. P. Singh argues for the incorporati on of ascetic values into the practices of everyday life. When so translated, th e practice of brahmacharya clearly becomes an ethical practice with sociomoral i mplications. For the wrestler, living in the world as a householder, the appeal is to have a family which is guided by moral principles: to raise children who r ecognize the value of strength, honesty, devotion, self-respect, and humility, a nd who are able to channel their emotions away from the intoxication of selfindu lgent sensual gratification and towards a feeling of obligation to society at la rge (Atreya 1973a: 24). Although no wrestler with whom I spoke made the associat ion, there is a clear parallel, I think, between what wrestlers advocate and the position held by moral reformers of the late eighteenth and early twentieth cen tury such as Sri Aurobindo and Sri Ramkrishnas missionary disciple, Vivekananda. Of particular interest in this regard are Sri Aurobindos statements on the spirit uality of physical education (A. Ghose 1949, 1954; A. Ghose and The Mother 1967) . Unlike the sannyaasi who has turned his back on the ethical problems of social life (as in K. P. Singhs characterization of Shankaracharyas contrived asceticism ), the wrestler has a clearly definedthough certainly visionarysocial purpose. Not only is the wrestler embedded in social life, he is responsible for setting an ethical standard. He must be honest, humble, duty-bound, hard-working, principle d and fair. He must be physically fit. In the process he takes personal responsi bility for precisely those things which the sannyaasi regards as illusionary. Ex emplary Lives The incorporation of ascetic values into the practice of everyday life entails individual subscription to ethical principles. On account of this, it is not surprising that the wrestler is often recognized as an exemplary perso n. Unlike the sannyaasi who is recognized for the extent and nature of his auste rities and for the power of his spirituality, the wrestler is recognized for his work in the world. To be sure, wrestlers are remembered for the bouts

they fight and win, but they are also recognized for the kind of men they are. A few examples are illustrative. The following is the story of Mangala Rai as tol d by Parmanand Shukla of Ghazipur (n.d.). Although not an exact translation of S huklas prose, I have sought to capture the flavor of a rhetorical, literary style that serves to embellish the facts of an exemplary wrestling biography: As peac eful and sincere as the full moon, deeper than the ocean itself and more brillia nt than the sky above, Mangala Rai, the essence of wrestling and well-known Paha lwaan, established such a high national standard, and gave Ghazipur and Uttar Pr adesh such eminence, that he will not soon be forgotten, much less equalled. Thi s wonder of Ghazipur and Uttar Pradesh was born on the pure and eternal soil of the holy Ganga. Champion wrestlers like Kamar, Amir Phutte, Hori Nariyan Singh, Hanuman Pande and Raj Nariyan Rai as well as others, were all born in Ghazipur, have glorified the earth of that district, and have advanced the nations pride th rough their art. In Ghazipur Vijaya Dashmi is a grand festival which commemorate s Rams victory over the southern Kingdom of Lanka. On this occasion Ram heroicall y defeated the forces of Ravanas demonic culture and established a new standard o f respectability and truth throughout the country. People break from their routi ne and visit one another or else go to fairs on this day. I was inspired on this occasion to go and have an audience with Mangala Rai, who, with heroism, abnega tion and energy had established another standard; a standard of wrestling throug hout India. Along the green banks of the Ganga, where I had to go, the land is f ertile and the people are well off. On this festive occasion I arrived in the vi llage of Musahib as dusk was approaching and found Mangala Rai seated on a cot n ext to the door of his home reading a Dinman magazine. Upon catching sight of me he graciously asked that I be seated and inquired after my health. Then we bega n to talk. I was surprised that he was as strong and fit as ever, despite his ag e. There was no sign of his getting older at all. This narrow-waisted, broad-sho uldered, hard body, radiant with the glory of great achievements, seemed to thro w out a challenge: Is there a wrestler in this country who is my equal? Mangala Rai, the wrestler who showed us the gems of this art, was born in the month of K unwar, 1916, in the village of Musahib. His father was Ramchandar Rai. Ramchanda r and his brother, Radha Rai, were both great wrestlers of their time. Kamala Ra i, Mangala Rais younger brother, was also a great wrestler. Ramchandar and Radha Rai both lived in Rangoon where they practiced and exercised in an akhaaraa. Rad ha Rai was the more accomplished of the two and he trained his nephews on the fi ner points of wrestling.

I asked Mangala Rai when he started wrestling in the akhaaraa and when his first competitive bout was. He said that he started wrestling at age sixteen and didnt compete until a year later. He was good enough so that from the start he was ma tched up with good, strong wrestlers so that his skill and experience developed accordingly. The great wrestler Shiv Murat Tiwari from Vabhanpura, Jalhupur, Var anasi district was also in Rangoon at this time and Mangala Rai benefited greatl y from his instruction. After some time Mangala Rai and his brother returned to their village in Uttar Pradesh. From the very beginning these two young men led a simple and unpretentious life. They were so neat and tidy that one could not f ind so much as a stain on their clothes. Another feature of their character was that they always provided food and facilities for any wrestler who stayed with t hem. For many years Mangala Rai did not have the opportunity to live in his vill age. Someone or the other was always making demands on his time. He had become s o famous for his numerous victories in Rangoon that daily people would come to s ee him. Sri Dharam Dev Pande was one such person, a great fan of wrestling from Gorur village. Now, just as Vishwamitra called on Raja Dashrat and asked that Ra m and Lakshman be sent to his ashram to pursue their training, so did Dharam Dev Pande call Mangala Rai and Kamala Rai to his own village so that they could imp rove their skill. There was always a crowed gathered to watch these two wrestler s working out. After gazing on their wrestling prowess, their moves and counterm oves, and on their tall, hard physiques, all who came to watch were left dumbfou nded. Living on the banks of the Ganga, bathing in the Ganga and spending some t ime in secluded self-reflection are some of Mangala Rais most cherished pleasures . There is always a book of one kind or another in his hands. The people of Nara yanpur, in Ghazipur district, were very keen that Mangala Rai come and stay amon g them. Being of a passive disposition Mangala Rai was not able to refuse the pe ople of Narayanpur. Arrangements were made for an akhaaraa to be constructed in a grove near the Ganga, and Mangala Rais daily needs were also provided for. Vish wamitras airy ashram, Buxar, is just on the other bank of the Ganga from this gro ve. Mangala Rai further developed his skill while living in this place by wrestl ing with twenty or twenty-five wrestlers, three times with each. Dukhram of Darb hanga, Sukhdev of Azamgarh, Mathuras Mohan Chaube, Kamala Rai, Brahmachari Rai, M athura Rai, and Baleshwar Pahalwaan, among many other great wrestlers, all came to stay and practice with Mangala Rai. Mangala provided for their diet and perso nally looked out for their welfare. Mangala Rais fabulous success and great natio nal fame may be attributed to the fact that upon returning from Rangoon he fough t with the great Mustafa Pahalwaan of Allahabad and Varanasi. He applied his fav orite moves, tang and baharali, with such perfection and power that those who we re watching were awestruck. His fame spread like wildfire and in his thirty-seco nd year he had to fight some one hundred bouts.

Mangala Rai himself explained to me his regimen: four thousand bethaks, two thou sand five hundred dandas and three sessions each with twenty or twenty-five wres tlers. Sometimes he would undertake other kinds of exercise as well. Mangala Rai weighs three and a half maunds [288 pounds] and is six feet tall. In addition t o bread, dal, and vegetables, he used to eat half a liter of ghi, two liters of milk, a kilogram of almonds and occasionally some fruit and juice. Mangala Rai i s fond of saying that anyone can be a guru, but the true guru is one who trains and cares for his disciples as he would his own sons. He must teach them complex and great ideas. Mangala Rais original trainer and guru was his uncle. His true guru is the late Sri Mahadev Pande (Pandeji) of Varanasi who was like a father t o him. Remembering Pandeji, Mangala Rai becomes grave and contemplative. Mangala Rai is of the opinion that at the present time wrestlers are becoming enamored with fashion and frivolity and have lost sight of the essential principles of th e art. They are caught up in a materialist, consumer culture and are dragging th e art of wrestling down with them. He is an advocate of unlocking each wrestlers individual potential. He has kept clear of rural politics, and has instead worke d tirelessly at developing character. Mangala Rai says that the life of a wrestl er is no less than the life of a yogi. Only by engaging in this magnificent regi men can wrestling continue to develop. Now that Mangala Rai no longer wrestles h e has become a hard-working and successful farmer who owns a tractor. His discip line and industriousness can be seen in this area as well. Now Mangala Rais good character and sage counsel is taken advantage of by those who need advice and th ose who need a dispute resolved. Another exemplary life history is that of Brahm dev Pahalwaan as recounted by Govardan Das Malhotra (1981: 6870). The literary st yle of presentation again serves to evoke an image of greatness: Accomplished wr estlers are regarded as saints. Just as saints and great sages renounce the worl d of illusion and deceit and become absorbed in god, so do wrestlers have to foc us themselves and lose themselves in their art. If his concentration should even slightly waver and his pace falter then it is certain that he will end up as th e lowest of low and no better than a person who grovels in the dirt. Wrestling i s unique among Indias ancient arts. From the beginning wrestling practice has bee n done on the ground, in the soil. Among those who have practiced wrestling ther e are many who have made a name for themselves and have built up the nations stan dard. Among these, Brahmdev Pahalwaanthe Lion of Uttar Pradeshearned a reputation for his guru, the nationally known Chandan Pahalwaan. Such skill as he demonstra ted is rarely seen in your average wrestler.

A devotee of Baba Gorkhanath; a nobleman of Gorakhpur; a patron of wrestling, th e late Babu Purushotam Das provided Brahmdev with the venuePakki Bagh Akhaaraain w hich he performed, exercised and thereby gave his admirers such satisfaction. Wh at fame he achieved may be attributed to his true commitment, deep concentration and selfconsciousness. Today this straightforward man, advocate for the poor an d under-privileged, and tireless political worker is no longer with us, but thos e in Gorakhpurnay, the entire statecannot live without recalling Brahmdevs great sk ill. Brahmdev was born the youngest son of Mahadev Mishra in Rudrapur, Khajni Gr am, near the Bansgaon thesil of Gorakhpur district in 1917. Khajni is a veritabl e pilgrimage point for wrestlers. Brahmdevs grandfather, father and brothers were all wrestlers, so how could he have been anything else! He regularly went to th e village akhaaraa with his father where he rolled around and covered himself wi th earth. The aura of so many great wrestlers must have rubbed off on Brahmdev a nd served to focus his attention on wrestling. On account of his devotion to the akhaaraa, Brahmdevs formal education ended in middle school. However, being from a Brahman family and living in an intellectual community he learned the Ramayan very well and was able to quote Sanskrit verses with great proficiency. In addi tion to being a wrestler, Brahmdev took an interest in politics and was an accom plished public speaker. As a village pradhan [head man] and Block Officer he ser ved the public well. Brahmdev enjoyed his life in the peaceful environment of th e village akhaaraa. He exercised and ate to his hearts content. In the city akhaa raa of Pakki Bagh he became a disciple of Chandan Singh and thereby followed a m ore rigorous regimen and improved his skill. In local tournaments he sought out wrestlers bigger and stronger than himself and regularly defeated them. When he defeated the great Surti Pahalwaan in a Gorakhpur tournament the fans excitement was unbounded. He also defeated a European wrestler in Gorakhpur. Brahmdevs daily work-out consisted of two thousand five hundred bethaks and one thousand six hu ndred dands. After running he would wrestle with twenty-five good wrestlers. He was most accomplished in the nikal, tang, and multani moves. Any opponent who wa s subjected to these moves would most certainly see the sky. His diet included one seer (a quarter measure) of ghi, six seers of milk, and thandai made from half a seer of almonds. He also enjoyed fruit and was a vegetarian. In Calcutta he ex ercised in the akhaaraa at Mochi Pari Thana in Bara Bazaar where he instructed m any great Bengali wrestlers. According to Indian tradition he wore a dhoti and k urta with a dopatta around his neck and shoulders. With huge mustachios Brahmdev cut a very impressive figure. When he walked through the bazaar thousands of pe ople would stand and watch while his many disciples would compete for the honor of touching his feet.

Brahmdev was married very young but had no children. However, he regarded his ne phews as his own sons and personally looked out for them. He admonished the chil dren of his family to pay particular attention to their studies. As someone who advocated education he was a model citizen until his death in 1975. As indicated in chapter 3, Guru Fakir Chand Shukla is characterized by Ramkumar Shukla as the embodiment of renunciation (1973: 43). In fact, the ideal persona of a guru is p erfectly congruent with the wrestlers vision of worldly asceticism. Many of the f ounders of well-known akhaaraas are remembered for their exemplary lifestyle of total devotion to hard work and rigorous self-discipline. In addition to establi shing a well-known wrestling akhaaraa, Fakir Chand Shukla gave away medicine to the poor and also built numerous temples. In and of itself this makes his life n oteworthy. What is most exemplary about his life is that he worked for developme nt by disregarding the formal manifestations of life and turned instead to a ref orm of the inner man (ibid: 47). Heroism and courage of this sort is achieved not through grand aspirations but rather through personal application on the level o f everyday, mundane situations. As Ramkumar Shukla points out, Fakir Chand Shukl as greatness was a manifestation of his small achievements (ibid). Although not a t all diminutive, he was a quotidian hero. Mahadev Pahalwaan is also known for h is worldly asceticism. Govardan Das Malhotra writes: Mahadev Pahalwaan was born t o a gwal [dairy farming] family but he was born for wrestling and wrestling alon e, and he died doing the work of a wrestler. This exemplary wrestler who embodie d self-respect was regarded as a saint by the people of Kanpur (1981: 30). There are numerous other wrestlers who are referred to as saints or sadhus; for instan ce, Bhagwan Singh Narayan Wale, a follower of Swami Dayananda who lived in a com munity of wrestlers in the forest outside of his village (Atreya 1979; Sinha 197 8: 12), and Mangaldas, who renounced the world at age eleven and later became th e spiritual teacher of other wrestlers (Malhotra 1981: 19). Atreya tells the story of Ramsanehi Pahalwaan of Kakare, a village near Moradabad. At the age of thirt y-two Ramsanehi left his family and spent eight years practicing the extreme aust erities of wrestling. No one in his village saw him until he emerged from seclusi on to defend his father, who was embroiled in a village dispute. For all his aus terities, however, Ramsanehi was a Jat farmer whose life revolved around the mun dane tasks of irrigation, plowing, and planting. One of the many stories told ab out Gama, the world-champion wrestler, reaffirms the value placed on austerity a nd simplicity as an exemplary virtue. Gama was asked by a young man what he shou ld do to achieve great strength and skill. Reflecting on the question and consid ering the great discipline required of a wrestler Gama said, simply, do eleven da nds and bethaks a day, eat a handful of chana, and think on god. Exemplary wrestl ers, whether they be well-known gurus or local champions, have succeeded in full y integrating devotional spirituality with disciplined exercise. All exemplary w restlers are remembered for the extent of their self-discipline. However, it is their life in the world that is regarded as noteworthy and meritorious. Like Ram sanehi,

many wrestlers are simple farmers who turned their labor into a form of spiritua l exercise. They draw strength from plowing fields, pulling water from wells, an d turning grindstones and oil presses (Atreya 1979: 41). Mangaldas sang hymns an d read the scriptures while tending his feed store in Kanpur. Fakir Chand Shukla was, among other things, a pharmacist whose healing practice was informed by hi s spiritual temperament. Without wishing to romanticize, it may be noted that ma ny of the most highly regarded senior wrestlers in BanarasLallu Pahalwaan, Nathu Lal Yadav, Lakshmi Kant Pande, and many othersfall into this category, not becaus e they are saints, by any means, but because they have a vision of the future, t o the attainment of which they have dedicated a good part of their lives. Trying to characterize the wrestlers personality, Atreya cites a passage from the Bhaga vad Gita (7.11) where Krishna says, In the strong I am strength unhindered by lus t (1971: 27, translation from Prabhavananda and Isherwood 1975: 90). In quoting t his passage Atreyas point is that even when wrestlers seem to have renounced the world, the nature of their austerities are still active rather than passive. The wrestlers strength is readily translated into commonsense, everyday terms; the s annyaasis austerities are not. From his perspectivesomewhat outside and yet implic ated in social lifea wrestlers vision of the world is quite different from either that of the worldly householder or the asocial ascetic. By virtue of his somewha t liminal condition as a moral individual in the world, the wrestler is able to look beyond the horizon of the taken-for-granted social order and see, or more p roperly imagine, a different paradigm for sociosomatic action. Conclusion As Dum ont (1960) has noted, the man-in-the-world is subsumed within the framework of c aste holism. Hinduism, he argued, is structured in terms of the dialectical rela tionship between the worldly householder and the world renouncer. Das (1977) and Heesterman (1985) have both suggested that the Brahman embodies the tension bet ween these two categories. The Brahman remains, nevertheless, embedded within th e world of caste relations. The ascetic practices of the Brahman only serve to u nderscore his spiritual authority and his caste purity. As an ideology, wrestlin g goes beyond the bounds of a caste model by appealing to a visionarybut no less realsocial ethic. Being nonsectarian, and outside the bounds of caste relations, wrestlers are not conscripted by the terms of hierarchy. By adopting the somatic practices of world renunciation, the wrestler effectively realigns the relation al categories which structure the caste ideology. The regimen of wrestling juxta poses sannyas ascetics to worldly nationalism. What is most intriguing about thi s relationship is that the ideology of wrestling accommodates the individuality of sannyas and defines for it a social role which transcends the bounds of caste . This works not because of an active protest against caste values, but because of a tacit and covert realignment of the dominant

ideologys primary coordinates. Within the scheme of wrestling the conceptual fram ework of caste relations is replaced by a utopian vision of national ideals. Her e, as we will see in the next chapter, the individual is accorded a preeminent p osition as the embodiment of moral, physical, and spiritual strength. The value of individuality is thereby recast in the light of somatic reform. In his discus sion of the Chamar ideology, Khare observes that the vocation of sannyas is like walking on the sharp edge of a sword (1984: 68). The sannyaasi must step carefull y so as not to become mired in the world of sensory illusion. When wrestlers ref lect on their avocation they say it is a bitter cup or like chewing iron chana. Unli ke the sannyaasi who steps out of the world to achieve his goal of self-realizat ion, the wrestler takes on the world as a domain for moral action. Both walk a s imilar path but in different directions, in relation to different points, and wi th quite different consequences. 10. Utopian Somatics and Nationalist Discourse Up to this point we have been primarily concerned with the symbolic meanings and disciplinary techniques that structure the wrestlers body and give corporeal for m to an ideology of regimented self-control and expressive identity. In this cha pter we shall look at the way in which this somatic ideology is translated into a nationalist discourse as the wrestler is cast in the role of perfect citizen. I was invited to the wedding of one of the wrestlers from Akhaaraa Ram Singh. It was about 5:30 in the evening, the height of rush hour in downtown Banaras. Bic ycles, rickshaws, pedestrians, motorscooters, and hawkers crowded Chaitganj alon g Naisarak Road as the grooms partyan entourage of over two hundred people, includ ing two brass bands and a garland-bedecked Victorian carriage drawn by four hors esset off through the bustling city. Progress was slow, but more by design than b ecause of the crowds. As we walked along, one of the wrestlers shouted over the sound of the trumpets, drums, and exploding fireworks that one could easily tell that this was the barat (grooms wedding party) of a wrestler. Just look at all of those wrestlers at the front of the group, he said as he threw back his head, st uck out his chest and drew his shoulders back while splaying his arms in the cha racteristic pose of a mast (invigorated) wrestler. Leading the barat, the guru o f the akhaaraa sauntered through the crowds, flanked on either side by elders, s enior members, and a host of young wards. Their gait, posture, and general aura was dramatic and self-conscious. Thick necks set on squared shoulders; straight, strong backs; twirled mustaches and short, oiled hair; eyes set in a benevolent , disinterested, yet proud and self-confident gaze: they sauntered through the c rowd slowly, ignoring the bustle around them, the young men mingling in front of the local cinema waiting for the six oclock show to begin, the gridlock of moped s and cars at the Godaulia intersection, but conscious of the eyes that turned i n recognition, admiration and,

undoubtedly, not just a little annoyance as the wrestlers parade moved against th e tide of the citys ebb and flow. A wrestler is always on stage, whether he is wa lking along a street, attending a wedding, praying at a temple, exercising at hi s akhaaraa, or competing in a tournament. This is not to say that wrestlers are burlesque performers in a physical-cum-ethical sideshow. More in the manner of a morality play, their character is their virtue, and it permeates and shades all aspects of their lives. To get at the nature of the power matrix within which t he wrestlers body is so cast it is necessary to consider the larger context of mo dern India. Wrestlers have a specific, overtly circumscribed interpretation of m odernity. Throughout my research wrestlers often provided unsolicited critical c ommentaries on the state of the modern world. It became apparent that these were not the usual conservative and often anachronistically nostalgic retrospectives . In fact, a refined and critical evaluation of the current moral, economic, and political state of affairs in India is central to the practice of wrestling as a way of life. From the wrestlers perspective an affliction of modernity assails the human body and thereby directly undermines the integrity of the modern state . A fairly elaborate discourse has developed that both delineates the precise na ture of this affliction and offers a utopian alternative. The nature of this dis course is encoded in the body itself, but wrestlers are likely to elaborate on t his somatic base with great rhetorical flourish and poetic force. The Enemy With in The modern world threatens to exercise control over individual human subjects through the agency of seduction. Many times wrestlers would point to specific a rtifacts thought to characterize the modern eracinema halls and popular films; mo peds, scooters, and other two-wheeled, power-driven vehicles; synthetic fabrics; liquor storesand speak of how contemporary youth have fallen prey to crass comme rcialism and the lure of gross, sensual satisfaction that these artifacts of cul ture represent. The world of the bazaar is regarded as a den of iniquity which i s sharply contrasted to the wholesome world of the pristine akhaaraa. While the modern world is regarded as highly unnatural and immoral, wrestlers feel that in dividuals are inherently weak and susceptible to the seductive sensuality of a d ebauched way of life. That is, given half a chance, young men will gravitate tow ard cinema halls, tea shops, and liquor stores. Wrestlings implicit project is to throw up a moral and physical barrier to prevent this from happening. Given the overt physicality of wrestling, it is not surprising to find that the most hein ous modern afflictions are also cast in a particularly corporeal light. For inst ance, hairstyles are regarded as prime indicators of a persons more general moral character. Wrestlers are concerned with hair as a symbol of self-control in par ticular and identity in general. They wear their hair short, groomed with mustar d oil, and they provide various interpretations of why this is efficacious. Many argue that it keeps the head cool, thus allowing the mind to

remain focused and concentrated on practice and moral propriety. Others point ou t that the scalp and hair follicles absorb the oil, thus preventing baldness, da ndruff, or eczema. Given these perspectives it is not surprising that modern hipp ie-cut hairstyles are regarded as unhealthy and sensuous. In many areas of urban India one can find numerous hairstyling salons which advertise the latest in Bom bay filmy fashion. The stylists in these salons have developed haircutting to a ve ry sophisticated and, indeed, sensuous art. Scented oils, facial creams, and aft ershaves are available, as are warm facial cloth wraps, blow-dryer sculpting, ti nts, and dyes. A vocabulary has evolved that delineates, with considerable nuanc e, the difference between particular styles of haircuts, mustaches and beards. T hese salons are noteworthy in part for their ubiquity. They can be found at almo st every turn in a crowded bazaar. But there is also the fact that they make a s ophisticated, sensuous technology readily available to a broad-based consuming p ublic. In the evening salons are often brightly lit, and shiny metal fixtures an d large mirrors accentuate what is regarded as a quintessentially modern environ ment of plastic, vinyl, and glass. The biggest and brightest of these salons are often located near cinema halls, and crowds of young men can be seen preening i n front of mirrors as they are attentively groomed to perfection. It is precisel y this sort of hedonistic self-indulgence that wrestlers criticize. What rankles many is the fact that grooming has become a narcissistic passion of meticulous precision. It is a form of self-indulgence which is expressly sensual and consci ously physical. Hair length is but one dimension of this. In particular, talcs a nd scented aftershaves are regarded as grossly egregious insofar as they are art ificial tonics that threaten to replace the natural ardor of akhaaraa earth and well water. The wrestlers body is said to radiate with a natural, healthful glow, and talcum powder and moisturizing creams inhibit this aura. These commercial t oiletries offer an alternative image of refined, effete civility, which is, quit e literally, only skin deep. Another target of the wrestlers criticism is what mi ght be called public food in the form of snacks sold at streetside stalls as well as meals served in more lavishly appointed establishments. Wrestlers are extraor dinary eaters, and their diets are carefully managed. Therefore they are usually united in their vocal criticism of public food, which is, according to them, pr epared in suspect circumstances by less than circumspect chefs and consumed in t he chaotic environment of the market, railway station, bus stop, or cinema hall. Although all cooked food available for immediate consumption is regarded with s ome trepidation, there are a few specific food items which are inherently worse than others. Chata salty, sour snack made from lentil cakes and a variety of spic es and condimentsis regarded as the prototype of dangerous public food; it can th row ones bodily humors into drastic imbalance. In so doing it can enrage passion, a fact which is further exacerbated by the inherently stimulating properties of salts and spices. As with any other type of public food, one is never certain o f the circumstances under which chat has been prepared. Is the condiment sauce d iluted, and if so, with what? What has been added to stretch the bulk of the len til batter? Were clean pots and pans used for preparation? In addition to concer ns

with purity and hygiene, wrestlers are often suspicious of the fact that they mi ght catch bad emotions through the consumption of public food. Emotions such as an ger, frustration, lust, and anxiety are said to be contagious and are transmitte d from one person to another through the agency of food. As with haircutting sal ons, purveyors of chat and other snacks are commonplace in modern urban India. T he public dimension of streetside stalls is important in this context, for a wel l-known chat vendor can attract a large crowd. Thus, casual consumptionwhich, fro m the wrestlers critical perspective, is wholly gratuitous and unhealthytakes on t he character of a spectacle. Spectacles of such indiscriminate eating reach epic proportion as many young men congregate before and right after the showing of a popular film in a downtown cinema. In addition to the dubious dietary propertie s of public food, of which the wrestlers are obviously critical, public food is also maligned as leisure food eaten purely for pleasure. In this regard snacks l ike chat are seen as sensually self-indulgent junk food. Tea, like chat, is voci ferously criticized for a number of reasons. Because it is drunk in so many situ ations and in such large quantities in modern India, it is referred to sarcastic ally, and often in a tone of resignation, as kaliyug ki amritthe elixir of the da rk age. As a narcotic, tea is an artificial stimulant said to dull the senses ov er time. It inhibits ones appetite and can have a number of other detrimental eff ects on the body. Equally significant is the fact that tea has become associated with leisurely self-indulgence. Tea shops abound in the urban environment where workers, travelers, truck drivers, and government bureaucrats indulge themselve s often. Because it is drunk purely for pleasure, wrestlers reason that tea drin king is a sign of idleness. It replaces the purposeful singleminded consumption of pure water or pure milk with a kind of distracted revery of the palate that s erves no purpose. Another primary dimension of the wrestlers critique of modern l ife has to do with clothes and sartorial fashion. Generally speaking, wrestlers feel that the healthy body is properly maintained when clothed in loose-fitting cotton garments. The rationale provided is that the body must breathe and theref ore should not be artificially constricted. Some wrestlers say that a dhotia long , loosely bound loinclothand kurtaa long, uncuffed shirtare preferred apparel. Howe ver, only a minority of senior wrestlers wear this costume. Wrestlers in general wear a wide array of clothes, but for the most part they dress in a fairly cons ervative and unpretentious style. While it is difficult to generalize about what wrestlers wear, it is relatively easy to delineate those dimensions of fashion that they regard as particularly abhorrent. Tight-fitting tailored trousers and shirts made from synthetic, permanent-press materials are said to inhibit free m ovement and cause excessive perspiration as well as chafing. Bell-bottom and fla red pants are regarded as self-indulgent, as are bush shirts with wide collars, sn aps, frills, fringes, darts, and pleats. Clothes that are fashionably tight are criticized for drawing unnecessary (and usually unwarranted) attention to ones ph ysique.

As with haircuts and public food, wrestlers feel that young men have become obse ssed with fashion. Tailors, like hair stylists, have refined their sartorial art into an elaborate mechanics of subtle precision by which means they are able to cater to the proclivities of modern taste. Clothes are, of course, closely asso ciated with the individual body, and for this reason wrestlers are particularly perturbed by the extent to which consumer-oriented fashion threatens to cloak th e disciplined body in a garish, artificial, and unhealthy costume. Wrestlers cri ticize a number of aspects of modern life, but nothing is regarded as more hedon istically debauched than the modern Indian cinema. Films are synonymous with vir tually everything which is wrong with the country. Popular film songs which can be heard, among other places, played through amplifiers from hair salons, tea sh ops and chat stalls, are regarded as obscene. Without wishing to cast aspersions on the genius of Indian cinema, it is necessary to emphasize the degree to whic h wrestlers feel that film and film fashion has undermined public morality. Larg er-than-life technicolor film billboards are regarded as a blight on the moral l andscape. While many may be critical of the impact which popular film has had, t he exact nature of the impact is of particular importance for the wrestler. It h its at the very heart of his identity: controlled sexuality. Films are thought t o be vulgar and erotic and therefore the essence of seduction. Scantily clad her oines dance, tease, and otherwise entice young men who then follow the well-groo med heros lead and let themselves be seduced. All of which is a vicarious fantasy of course, but daydreams can lead directly to adolescent confusion, wrestlers a rgue, and impure thoughts directly presage a loss of semen. While cinematic imag es impact the young mans mind, wrestlers feel that erotic thoughts manifest thems elves in certain somatic ways. An erotic mood is said to be most visible in the eyes and the face. The initial passionate flush is followed by a prolonged condi tion in which the eyes lose their brightness and become hollow. Skin becomes dul l and lackluster while cheeks become sunken. The image, appropriately, is of som eone who is drained of life. From the critical, conservative wrestlers perspectiv e, the debauched everyman is a fairly two-dimensional figure whose thin physique and narcissistic fashion complement his immoral character. In addition to the p rimary points outlined above, such men are criticized for numerous other things as wellriding around on fast motorcycles, smoking cigarettes, drinking liquor, ch ewing tobacco, idly sitting around, or, alternatively, promenading in public wit h no other purpose than to show off their clothes. Wrestlers, as well as other l ess dogmatic critics, use the English term loafer to label anyone who affects this fashion. On this general subject Rajkumar Hans, writing the introduction to a wre stling manual, makes the following remarks: It is a matter of grave concern that people in post-independence India are becoming less and less interested in exer cise. When I consider the question of why this is so I am forced

to conclude that it is because we are surrounded on all sides by a rotten enviro nment. The young people who should be in the akhaaraa, who should be turning the pit, who should be exercising, wrestling and swinging gadas . . . they are toda y popping mandrix pills [a common tonic which is said to bestow strength], taking drugs and drinking liquor. They sit around and read cheap novels or flip through pornographic magazines. Who knows why this cabaret-disco mentality has returned t o India? In the newspapers we read about murder, robbery and fraud. The reason f or this is very clear: men do not practice self-control; they are afflicted with prejudice and mental tension (1983: 17). The Body and Civic Duty The wrestlers s omatic critique of hedonistic everyday life is not restricted to the skindeep leve l of fashion. It is also directed toward larger issues of public, civic life. Wr estlers feel that physical health and fitness are directly related to ones duty a nd ethical responsibility as a citizen. Consequently, it is argued, the weak, de bauched everyman is not only undermining his own integrity but is, in effect, sh irking his responsibility as a modern Indian. Wrestlers, like many others, expre ss cynical frustration with the hazards and alienation of modern life. In partic ular, they are vocally critical of those things which affect them personally. A ponderous, monolithic bureaucracy must be negotiated when seeking admission to s chools. A formidable legal apparatus must be penetrated when applying for buildi ng permits, licenses, and interstate-transportation documents. Tension is inhere nt in dealing with police and other public officials. And one feels alienated by a pervading sense of powerlessness when performing everyday tasks such as buyin g rations at a state-run store, making reservations for a bus or train, or waiti ng for a shipment of building materials for the construction of a government-sub sidized house. Accusations of corruption are legion, and many wrestlers with who m I spoke expressed a deep-seated distrust of police officers, railway booking c lerks, local politicians, legal advocates, school administrators, bank managers, building contractors, and many others. Some wrestlers come from the ranks of th ese much-maligned public servants, and many wrestlers know people in high places . Despite this, however, the category of public servant, as opposed to those ind ividuals who actually fill the role, is regarded with a great deal of suspicion and resentment. I often heard wrestlers talk of how they were unable to gain adm ission to school, take out a bank loan, or build an extension onto a house witho ut first bribing someone involved; this did not solve the problem, it simply bou ght them access to a daunting, alienating bureaucratic maze. While corruption is regarded as a public scourge that has penetrated almost every rung of

public administration, state bureaucracy, and private enterprise, wrestlers are equally critical of a less administrative form of corruption: the practice of ad ulteration. Wrestlers are very suspicious of the quality of all commercial goods . Like many others, they doubt if the sugar they buy is in fact pure sugar. The same applies for flour, milk, salt, ghi, molasses, oil, or any other household c ommodity. Cement, coal, petrol, kerosene, and diesel fuel are all thought to be c ut with some inferior product in order to increase profits by way of inflated vol ume. For wrestlers in particular, ghi and milk have become the symbols of once p ure and pristine products which are now rendered less valuable through adulterat ion. I was told that it would be impossible for me to buy pure milk, and this fr om a wrestler whose family business was dairying. One of the elders at Akhaaraa Ram Singh arranged for pure ghi to be made available to me through the aegis of a r eputable dealer. Left to my own devices, he said, and others concurred, I would p robably have ended up buying some half-and-half mixture adulterated with cheap v egetable shortening. One can only imagine the apoplectic effect this would have had on my digestive tract. The inchoate world of suspicion, public distrust, and corruption shadows the parallel world of seductive self-indulgence. Thus, in th e wrestlers view, it is the young man who primps, preens, drinks tea, and watches films or television who is also most likely to take bribes and adulterate produ cts. A satirical verse in a popular wrestling journal (Dwivedi 19741975: 33) capt ures this notion: There is no product now which is not adulterated But without t he mandate of T.V. is there a national mission? There is no product now which is not adulterated And no official will move unless well remunerated Immorality exte nds directly out from the unhealthy body to influence the ethics of public life. In part this equation is effected through a particular logic of responsibility and duty. Narcissism is manifest self-interest. As a persons attention is drawn n arrowly to himself, the degree of his responsibility to the common good diminish es. In this formula, corrupt powerwhether it be the ability to influence ticket s ales or building contractsis concentrated in the individual and serves self-inter est. It is significant that power, morality, and fitness are linked so closely i n this logic. In a very real sense an individual is thought to be more susceptib le to vice if his body is not fortified through exercise and disciplined trainin g. The Rhetoric of Somatic Reform The wrestlers way of life may be seen as a form of protest against self-indulgence and public immorality. By disciplining his body the wrestler is seeking to implement ethical, national reform. This formal soma tic ideology finds most powerful and explicit expression

in the popular literature on wrestling. By way of the printed page this literatu re makes public an ideology which is otherwise strictly encoded in the regimen o f akhaaraa practice. Those who write about exercise, diet, and training seek to interpret the discipline of wrestling so as to make it intelligible and accessib le to the lay person. Moreover, this literature is explicitly designed to thwart the affliction of modernity: to provide a medium by which means the degenerate everyman might find his own salvation. Essays, letters, and poems call on wrestl ers to champion the cause of their way of life in order to bring about moral and physical reform. A few right-wing organizations in India take a similarly dim v iew of, among other things, moral decay and cosmopolitan, secular modernism. Whi le the ideology of such groups as the militant Hindu Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh is in some ways similar to various aspects of the wrestling ideology, there are significant differences (see appendix). Although some of the rhetoric may sound the same, the points of view are quite different. Despite the overtly nationali stic and patriotic tone of many essays and poems, most of the literature on wres tling does not call for direct political action through group organization or fo rmal advocacy. The literature on wrestling parallels the practice of wrestling i tself by casting national reform in a specifically individualistic and somatic l ight. The ultimate goal of somatic discipline is a reformed collective conscious ness of national morality and health. Consider the following passage, typical of many commentaries which contain both an exaggerated lament and a utopian prospe ctive: Today independent India is blinded by its freedom. Wrestling, which once made India strong beyond compare and which made our soldiers the strongest in th e world, is now practiced by only five or ten people. Guru Hanuman has a had a g reat deal to do with keeping the tradition of wrestling alive. But what can one Guru Hanuman do? We should have one Guru Hanuman born in every village in the na tion; if not, then wrestling will no longer run in the blood of the Indian peopl e. There are only a few villages which have akhaaraas, and one can count on ones fingers the number of city akhaaraas. . . . There was a time when every village had an akhaaraa. . . . This sport, which costs nothing, has made India great in terms of strength and fitness. . . . Not until every man in India has spent ten to twelve years in the earth of an akhaaraa can we hope to regain our national s trength. . . . These days the strength of societynot only in the villages, but ev erywhereis being spent on intoxicants of all kinds. Our energy should be spent bu ilding strength and wisdom. In this way we can prevent the wastage of our nation al wealth. The health of the nation will increase. The character of the nation w ill grow strong. It is my prayer that the people of India send their children to the akhaaraas. Send your children to learn the knowledge of wrestling. Without the peoples effort, no progress will be made. . . . Ninety percent of our problem s can be solved through wrestling. We can rescue ourselves from the problems whi ch face us. The true wrestler is god. He is a true person (Atreya 1973a: 2124).

Another example of this powerful rhetoric is found in the preface to The Art of Wrestling by Rajesh Gupta. He articulates quite clearly both the nature of the p roblem as well as its possible solution: Who does not know that the health of ou r people has fallen to a low ebb? These are our children with sunken cheeks, hol low eyes and wrinkled skin. Youth?Yes! The very youth who will . . . build the fu ture of the nation on the pattern of our cultural heritage. Can these thin, dryboned youth protect the country, the race, our religion and our people? How can they when there is no light in their eyes and no life in their hearts? And why i s this? . . . It is not laziness, it is the fact that no one follows the path of brahmacharya. . . . Brothers! It is time for us to renounce our poisonous desir es and follow the path of brahmacharya with a pure heart. We must make our bodie s fit, strong, and radiant. We must set our minds on the rules and attitudes whi ch will ensure that our bodies will be healthy, beautiful, taut, and invigorated so that we can do the work that we are called on to do (n.d.: 34). Here the appe al is emotional and general. There is no specific program to be followed other t han that offered by the akhaaraa regimen. The idea is that strong wrestlers are moral citizens who will produce strong, healthy children. Eventually, it is thou ght, the whole country will exercise and eat its way toward a civic utopia of pr opriety and public service. In this rubric all that is artificial about the mode rn world is contrasted to the wholesome coordinates of the akhaaraa environment. The earth of the akhaaraa in particular is regarded as the most natural of natu ral substances. Wrestlers explain that close contact with the earth ensures good health. It is a potent symbol of national strength. An essay entitled The Earth Ak haaraa is Heaven and the Mat Akhaaraa is Hell (Atreya 1972b) sharply contrasts mode rn Olympic wrestling with traditional Indian wrestling. The author extols the vi rtues of earth as does H. B. Singh in his introduction to the journal Akhare ki Or(1972). Singhspeaks of modern Indians as those who no longer feel the fertile earth between their toes. They do not even remember that their bodies are the pr oduct of the earth. We see that they are reticent to pick up their playful, dust -covered children, for fear of soiling their fancy, tight-fitting, mill-cloth cl othes. And yet these same people blindly smother their children in powder and pe rfume. They do not realize that the wrestler who grapples in the earth, the farm er who plows the earth and the child who plays in the earth are all far healthie r than those who are alienated from the soil (ibid: 2). Patodi charts the variou s healing properties of akhaaraa earth and concludes, The earth will make you gr eat. The Indian wrestler puts on his g-string and wrestling shorts and enters th is earth. Upon doing so his body takes on a radiant aura. Can the office clerkeff ete proclivities, flabby physique, white clothes and alldecked out in the very fi nest cloth milled in Bombay and

Ahmadabad compare with this half-naked wrestlers radiant magnificence? Never! Abs olutely not! (1973a: 35) A number of poems quite forcefully express the general ideological attitude of personal responsibility. In the following poem by Ram Ch andar Kherawda Kesriya entitled We Will Advance the Glory of India (1978: 25), wrest lersthe diamonds of the red earthare enjoined to become moral reformers. Virtuous, we will teach the world true duty. As the diamonds of the red earth we will bui ld the Nations pride. As the burning lamps of energy we will teach peace. Tearing asunder the veil of darkness we will call forth a new day of brightness. Weakne ss shall be removed from the earth. Strength and manhood will be fostered. The s hadow of fraud, conceit and deceit will be removed. As the diamonds of the red e arth we will make the Nation proud. We shall water the forest of bay trees with pure faith. Pearls of humility will grow from the earth. Ethics, fraternity and moral pleasure will be fostered. There will be no more eroticism. The veil of il lusion will be removed. And the lesson is: The body is the vehicle of right livin g. As the diamonds of the red earth we will advance the Nations pride. We will wor ship the source of energy. The lesson of fitness will be taught. Through teachin g the lesson of self-control the troubles of the government will be solved. Busi ness will be profitable. Blemishes shall be removed from beauty. Society will be neither rich nor poor. With the power of the individual we will make the nation great. As the diamonds of the red earth we will make the Nation proud.

Of particular interest is the fact that the individual, as a wrestler, is called upon to shoulder the burden of national pride. Reform is clearly situated in th e body, as both agent for, and example of, reconstitution. When the claim is mad e that self-control can solve government problems, Kesriya is referring to overpop ulation and the related scourges of poverty, unemployment, overcrowding, and pol lution. To the wrestlers way of thinking, rapid population growth can be curtaile d, quite simply, through the practice of celibacy. Given the importance of celib acy within the wrestling ideology, it is not at all unreasonable to assumefrom th e wrestlers perspectivethat people will recognize the intrinsic value of self-cont rol. A solution is found to a national problem, almost coincidentally, by making everyone think and act like a wrestler. Similarly, it is reasoned, poverty will fall before an inspired work ethic fueled by the natural energy of the wrestlers good health. Grain will be abundantly available once it is not used to distill liquor and ferment beer. Pollution will be eradicated when wrestlers realize tha t they need clean air to breathe, clean water to bathe in, and clean earth upon which to exercise. However fantastic and visionary this logic may seem, many wre stlers feel that their way of life would set in motion a chain of events extendi ng out from each individual body and gradually bringing into line all aspects of public policy. Government Patronage: The State as King of Kings At least in par t the government is held responsible for the weak moral and physical character o f Indian youth. It has failed in its paternal, moralistic duty. As such, many wr estlers feel that the state must take a leadership role in championing the cause of civic reform. What can the government do? asks K. P. Singh. For its own sake i t can do much. It can be the leader. It can organize and provide encouragement. The government has shakti; it has resources. What can it do? It can do anything and everything (1972c: 40). The government was quick to uproot the rajas and lan dlords who were the guardians and sponsors of wrestling. It should be as quick t o take over responsibility for this art and do as well, if not better, than did the patrons of the past. If the government demands school diplomas from its yout hthe same youth who look to public service for status, money and respectthen it st ands to reason that along with these high standards the government must also req uire strength and physical fitness (1986: 2728). In many ways wrestlers see in th e government the possibility of quintessential royal patronage: the government a s king of kings, with unlimited resources and unbounded stature. The utopian gov ernment imagined by such writers as K. P. Singh, S. P. Atreya, and R. Patodi is not the bureaucratic and impersonal leviathan of the modern state; it is a pater nalistic institution of almost divine proportions, an enlightened body of good w orks and moral purpose. In Banaras I would often hear wrestlers talking of how t hey wished the government would provide them with food, clothes, and akhaaraa fa cilities, thus enabling

them to concentrate single-mindedly on the immediate task at hand. If the govern ment would only take care of mundane concerns, the citizen wrestler would be tha t much less encumbered by obligations, responsibilities and temptations of the m aterial world. If the government were to give each village a fitness account of 10 0 rupees, writes K. P. Singh, then [H]earts which have been still will burst with life, and the villages will revive. The rural masses will be reinstated as the real citizens of the nation. A fresh breeze will animate the country. . . . The youth of India will be flooded with pride in their bodies. They will be united w ith the government and the governments popularity will grow (1972c: 41). The utopi an government of which the wrestler speaks is dramatically different from the go vernment that sets sports quotas but does not otherwise take an interest in the wr estlers way of life. The line between government responsibility toward wrestlers becomes blurred with the wrestlers responsibility toward the nation. As the wrest ling ideal expands, national leaders will be drawn into the ranks of the wrestli ng citizenry. National concerns are wrestling concerns, and the perfect leader i s the perfect everyman who is the perfect wrestler. There is a sense here in whi ch the perspective on polity and responsibility changes as wrestlers move from a minority position to a majority status. Paternalism shades into communal self-h elp. As such the need for patronage is preempted; or rather, the citizen wrestle r is his own patron. Patronage and governance dissolve into civic responsibility , a kind of romantic, bucolic anarchy of the collectively fit. The Utopian Visio n Utopia is a corollary to ideology, and the ethical nationalism of wrestling pr esages an anachronistic image of India as a country of villages and akhaaraas po pulated by men of great physical strength and moral stature. The image is as pur e as it is necessarily vague and visionary. While there are obviously elements o f nostalgia built into this utopiathe golden age of past perfectionit is for the m ost part an image of progressive change. The utopia which the wrestler/writers h erald is sharply juxtaposed to the dystopia of modernity. Akhaaraas replace tea shops and cinema halls, milk replaces tea as the drink of choice, earth replaces facial cream, mustard oil replaces scented hair tonic, and the tight langot rep laces all that is vulgar in the world of sensual, sartorial fashion. From the pe rspective of someone who does not appreciate the wrestlers view of the body, such an image of progressive change would seem shallow and misguided. It does not de al with the larger issues of policy, planning, and economic development, which i s to say that it seems more fanciful than functional. The wrestlers utopian visio n does not contain a formula for revolutionary changes in social structure or ci vic organization. Having become disciplined wrestlers, it is argued, people will otherwise go about their lives in a normal fashion. The citizen wrestler is cal led upon to change his attitude and way of living rather than the type of work h e does or the practical goals he envisions for himself and his children. Subtle subversion is regarded as the means by which immorality and deceit are to be lea ched from the national fabric. Thus, a wrestling politician will be less suscept ible to corruption and will work for the common good; a wrestling police officer will sacrifice his

personal gain to the end of greater social justice; a wrestling dairy farmer wil l not dilute the milk he sells, thus insuring the better health of all concerned ; and so on, through the ranks of all occupations, roles, and institutions. The utopian future is, admittedly, a two-dimensional place conceived of by wrestlers in primarily somatic terms. They almost wholly ignore questions of economic gro wth, political power, and development, as well as other national concerns. Their s is a circumscribed utopia, but not one bounded by ideals of communal living an d isolated simplicity. The future is cast in terms of picturesque rural beauty: fertile fields, fresh air, shade trees, and cool streams. Although pro-rural, th e utopian future is not expressly anti-urban. In fact, given the poetic and visi onary nature of wrestling rhetoric, it is fairly easy to cast urban life in rura l terms. Airy, cool, earthy urban akhaaraas are in many ways rural microcosms. I n keeping with the image of rural simplicity, wrestlers speak of the future as a time when good, pure food will be available to everyone. As one wrestler put it , There will be enough milk and almonds for everyone to eat. Self-sufficiency is a n aspect of this gastro-utopia, for in the best possible world each hard-working family group would own enough cows and buffalos to have an unlimited supply of milk and ghi. In order to bring about the utopia envisioned and presaged by the ideology of wrestling, it is the moral duty of every wrestler to convert others to his chosen life path. If every wrestler were to train two wrestlers every fiv e years, then every fifth year the number of wrestlers would at least double. . . . It can be said that a wrestler is not a wrestler unless he makes others into wrestlers. The wicked and the corrupt are quick to swell their ranks with conve rts, while the pure and honest sit back quietly. Is goodness cowardly and shy? I s it selfish? It is essential that we put our lives behind goodness. Today! Now! . . . A wrestler must have a missionary spirit. He must be obsessed with the ad vancement of wrestling. He must get excited about his art. He must be interested in spreading the word throughout the nation. He must make wrestling contagious; not as a disease, but as a way of life (K. P. Singh 19721973: 1112). A number of poems glorify the nature of the wrestlers nationalistic duty. One entitled Duty by Ram Chandar Kherawda Kesriya (1973: 25) is typical: Duty calls, stand up oh youth of India. Lift up the nations name today, oh youth. It is lost, oh listen youth o f India. Go and find the wrestling which is lost,

oh youth. With the strength of shakti Krishna lifted up the mountain. With the s trength of shakti Bali defeated Ravana. Only by worshiping shakti was Ram able t o pull Shivas bow. Steadfast duty enabled these three to have shakti. Duty is one of Gods voices. It is the law of manhood. Duty is behind all courageous achievem ents. Behind all manifest power is the hand of duty. It is the call of duty, awa ken oh youth of India. Rekindle the lamp of youth. Recognize the strength of sha kti, oh youth of India. It is the time, raise up oh youth of India. Shantilal Ch ajherd, another wrestling poet, has written a number of poems. In one, entitled W e Will Make it Heaven, he admonishes Indias youth to throw off the veil of darknes s, light the lamps of national pride, lovingly embrace spirituality, and turn aw ay from passion so that there will be no more hunger and no more thirst; and so t hat all people will have understanding (1973: 30). In a song entitled Vital Life (1 972: 77) the same poet laments the passing of wrestling champions and criticizes an attitude of complacency which characterizes the modern scene: Some say, What are you doing friend? Why exercise and stop eating chat? We eat like indiscriminate animals, and are sick. By the thousands in hospitals we rot. Another poet, who calls himself Dwivedi, has written a long serial poem entitled The Cow Shed. Six new stanzas of the poem appear in each successive edition of the journal Bharatiya Kushti. The poem elaborates on the theme of cow protectiona powerful symbol of Hi ndu religiosityand uses the symbol of the cow shed (goshala) as a metaphor for al l that is good and moral about the traditional Indian polity. Dwivedi laments th e way in

which the goshala has been undermined by corrupt politics (19721973: 33; stanza 1 46); how the cow shed metaphorically stumbles at the sight of young men in forei gn suits and ties (ibid: stanza 148); how temples, masjids and churches have und ermined the integrity of the cow shed (1973: 19; stanza 153); how taverns and li quor stores have pitted brother against brother (1971: 19; stanza 112); and how drinking has been the downfall of fathers, husbands and sons (19721973: 33; stanz a 145). Each set of six stanzas usually ends with an appeal for young men to uph old the values the cow shed represents. Often the correlation between the cow sh ed and the akhaaraa is made explicit. One set (1973: 19; stanza 156) ends with t he following verse. In June there is again to be a tournament in Delhi. Let us w atch to see who will win Who will carry away the prize? In a tournament one must show The jewels of ones strength, courage and brilliance It is for this reason tha t the wrestler Must remember the cow shed. It is incumbent on every wrestler to r ead the poetics of this nationalism into the particular situation of his own lif e. What this means is to be able to translate personal strength into national in tegrity, personal health into national well-being and self-control into national discipline. Ascetic Wrestlers: Agents of Utopian Reform In wrestling rhetoric t he sannyaasi provides a model for the duty-bound missionary wrestler. As K. P. S ingh writes, Practice self-denial. Go to the villages. Be an ascetic for your wo rk. Spread the word and do it with missionary zeal. If a wrestler only gives a f raction of himself and goes to the villages, thousands of young people will crow d around him and dig an akhaaraa. The roots will then run deep and it will not t ake long to build up a tower of moral and physical strength (1972c: 47). As the sannyaasi stands apart from the world yet is integrated into life as a spiritual teacher, so the wrestler is integrated into social life as an ethical reformer. It is not sufficient for a wrestler to be just a wrestler. If he does not give a portion of his strength back to society will he benefit from his selfishness? What fruit will his effort bear? Even the sannyaasi who has retreated from socie ty to the forest has given us learning in the form of scriptures (K. P. Singh 19 721973: 12).

Perhaps the single most important aspect of the sannyaasis character is his detac hment from worldly concerns. As such, he is the mirror opposite of the debauched everyman whose obsession with commodities, fashion, and sensual gratification i s so expressly worldly in a gross, modern way. In this regard the sannyaasi-like wrestler heralds in a new era of somatic ethics. Just as the hedonistic everyma n embodies the affliction of modernity as personal narcissism, the sannyaasi-lik e wrestler embodies reform in terms of manifestly individualistic ideals. As an eminently individualistic persona, the sannyaasi-like wrestler is a perfect citi zen of the utopian future. Given the preponderance of evils in modern India and th e very conservative interpretation of what poses a moral threat to society, the only effective response is to put the burden of responsibility on the shoulders of each individual. A community of wrestlers cannot hope to censure every film a nd magazine or shut down every liquor store, tea shop or chat stall. Nor could t hey realistically hope to organize a campaign against prostitution or shut down the mills which produce synthetic cloth. The nature of the conservatism is too d iffuse and the objectionable sources of debauchery too powerful and entrenched. Following the model of the sannyaasi, the wrestlers advocate a retreat from the world. Each person must turn into himself as he turns his back on what Rajkumar H ans has called the rotten environment of an afflicted nation. The idea is not to co mbat depravity through direct political action but to replant the seeds of refor m, as it were, in the body of each person. R. K. Sharma captures this ascetic id eal when he calls on the citizens of India to return to the akhaaraas: Brothers! If we are to revive our true and natural condition. If we are to shatter our na ivete; if we are to champion the peoples concern for ethical reform and establish programs for morality in everyday life; if we are to reestablish the primacy of the race through the revival of religious and moral values; if, more than anyth ing else, we are to protect our national freedom, then the most important and cr ucial task which is before us is to banish once and for all every vestige of car nal sensuality which we secret within us. To do this we must begin immediately t o champion the cause of our own fidelity; and to do this we must not rely on the agency of our thoughts alone but on the reconstitution of our bodies as not onl y healthy, but strong, quick, beautiful and radiant enough to take on the diffic ult task of ethical reform (n.d.: 45). In the utopian vision, wrestling remains a world turned in on itself where character and strength are a feature of persona l identity. But as all of the people turn in upon themselvesexercising, praying, eating, drinking milk, and following the mandate of their respective guruthe nati on itself becomes an akhaaraa. However abstract and romantic this ideal may seem , it is, in fact, put into practice by some wrestlers. Many wrestlers with whom I spoke emphasized the role they must play in drawing young boys into akhaaraas. The future of the nation is dependent on the degree to which they are able to p ass the heritage of wrestling ideals from one generation to the next. They must do this both through active recruitment as well as by straightforward example. I t

was always with great pride and a sense of deep satisfaction that senior wrestle rs themselves cut in a somewhat ascetic/teacher moldwould show me a group of eight - to ten-year-olds wrestling their way to a better India. 11. The Individual ReFormed Having ended the previous chapter on a note of utopian rhetoric, I feel c ompelled to remind the reader that the world of wrestling is not nearly what it aspires to be. Relative to factories, temples, mosques, police stations and gove rnment officesto say nothing of cinema halls and cloth millsthere are only a few a khaaraas in modern India. Along these lines of relative perspective, I heard an interesting folktale about a two-ton wrestler. It went something like this: A tw o-ton wrestler, who was unbeaten in his own land, went in search of a three-ton wrestler who he had heard lived not far away. The two wrestlers met and they beg an to wrestle in a farmers field. In the process they crushed six or seven goats which were part of a herd of forty or fifty which belonged to an old woman. The woman came upon the wrestlers and, seeing her goats crushed, quickly gathered up the remaining animals, put them in a bag, and slung this across her shoulder. S he then picked up the two-ton wrestler and put him on one shoulder and picked up the three-ton wrestler and put him on the other. The wrestlers continued to gra pple as she made her way toward home. Along the way, however, a black vulture sm elled the dead goats and swooped down, grabbed the old woman, the two wrestlers and the bag of goats, and flew off into the sky. As the vulture flew over a kings palace, the old woman, the goats and the two wrestlers fell and landed in the e ye of a princess who was sitting on the palace roof. The princess called out to her courtiers and servants, asking them to look into her eye to see what it was that caused her so much discomfort. However, no one, not even the court doctor, was able to find anything in the princesss eye. The king called a council and ask ed his advisors what ought to be done. One of them suggested that a local fisher man be called in to cast his net in the princesss eye and thereby extract whateve r it was that caused her such pain. The local fisherman was called, and taking h is best net he cast it into the princesss eye. He and his relatives all began to pull and pull until they were so tired that they could hardly stand. Finally, ho wever, they pulled the net all the way through and out of the princesss eye, and there in the net was the old woman, the bag of goats, and the two wrestlers stil l grappling on her back as though nothing had happened. The tale, which is const ructed as a riddle, or paradox, ends with the question: who was the biggest? Was it the two-ton wrestler, his three-ton adversary, the disgruntled old woman,

the black vulture, the hapless princess, or the fisherman? Ultimately, as I thin k the tale/riddle demonstrates, scale is not as importantor as clearly defined, a nd therefore as constitutive of realityas is the nature of the universe within wh ich the seemingly out-ofperspective events take place. In her study of the Yogav asistha, OFlaherty discusses the dimensions of such a universe, which she charact erizes as mobius in nature: finite, but unbounded; bigger inside than outside; w here inside is outside; where things get bigger as they get smaller; and where t he dreamer is dreamed (1984: 240241). The two seemingly gigantic wrestlers grappl e their way through just such a paradoxical universe; and it is in this mobius s ense, I think, that we can understand how the akhaaraa becomes the world and the wrestlers body expands to realign the coordinates of psychosomatic existence. My argument throughout this study has been that wrestling casts the body in a part icular light. Various regimens, in conjunction with certain symbolic structures, have the effect of building the body up to larger-than-life proportions. The re gimentation to which the wrestlers body is subject does not produce a wholly dise mbodied pugilist such as might be the product of Western forms of discipline whe re body is radically dissociated from mind, and where the rank-and-file individu al is regarded as a mere machine. Because Hindu philosophy and practice does not make the same distinction between mind and body, the individual is not objectif ied in the same way when subject to various forms of discipline. As Narayan Sing h pointed out, and I think many other wrestlers would concur, the first step of any exercise begins with the question: Who am I, and what am I put on this earth for? It proceeds along a direct path of regimentation to a subjective experienc e of self as whole and healthy. Far from being clones in the growing ranks of th e merely physically fit, wrestlers develop their ability to translate a bethak, a dand, a glass of milk into selfrealization, and this into the subjective refor m of moral problems. Such a fit person, as described by Atreya, is free from egoi sm, desire, anger, vanity and attachment. Everything is under his controlthe body , mind and speech. All his selfish interests get merged with the social interest . He is engaged in bringing about social welfare without any selfishness. He is really a model of ideal and pure behavior. He is not governed by anybody, but hi s very nature is ethical. Right actions are performed naturally by him (1973d: 414 2). In other words, in Hindu Indiawhich is otherwise a world of much larger and m ore mutable proportionsthe somatic discipline of wrestling creates an icon of the individual self. On this subject K. P. Singh provides the following observation : When you seek to develop your character, develop it in such a way that it beco mes a treasure trove of magnetic power. Do not expect that the riches of life wi ll fall at your feet. You must search for the true meaning of life. Whether thro ugh enterprise or through the rigid practice of vyayam, the goal is to plant the seed of human magnetism in this flesh and bone body. When milk is boiled, cream develops, and when gold is fired it shines (1972b: 23). One of the consequences of building an iconic body charged with the power of human magnetism is that it is slightly out of step with the more protean rank and file who march

to the beat of a different drum. The rhythm of everyday life gets confused in th e process, as when the wrestler suggests that the health of his body is continge nt not only on an ideological denunciation of caste values but also on a physica l enactment of what is normally anathema. A positive interpretation of mingling sweat, among other things, is but a logical extension of what is otherwise encod ed in the precise mechanics of all akhaaraa life. But to a large extent the Bana ras wrestlers wrestle their way toward a utopian future in much the same way as the two- and three-ton wrestlers grapple their way through the mobius universe. They are oblivious to the cold, hard logic of proportion and pragmatism. They do not always know what the consequences of their actions are. Certainly the close physical proximity of dangal competition, jor, ban, and massage raises the whol e issue of purity and pollution. Sometimes, as I have noted, the question is add ressed directly. But for the most part the whole issue of caste propriety is ana logous to the old womans goats in the mobius riddle: a fact of life which is some what out of place in the arena of wrestling and which accidentally gets crushed by the larger dynamics of an epic struggle. In setting their sights on the utopi an future, wrestlers scale down and then abandon the logic of a more familiar mo ral environment. The iconic individuality of the sannyaasi-like citizen wrestler accidentally undermines the integrity of caste holism. When I first began to ta lk with wrestlers I was often told that wrestling is a world apart. As the researc h continued I began to understand how it is that wrestling is apart, and what it is apart from. It skews ones vision of the social whole. As does a glimpse of th e mobius universe, a wrestling way of life shakes up the perspective and thereby suggests a different way of seeing commonplace social relationseven if it is jus t a mote in a princesss eye.

Plates 1. Akhaaraa Bara Ganesha 2. Lallu Pahalwaan: A Body of One Color

3. Jori Swinging: Akhaaraa Kon Bhatt 4. Gada Swinging: Akhaaraa Sant Ram

5. Ban: Akhaaraa Sant Ram

6. Massage: Akhaaraa Ram Singh 7. Jor: Akhaaraa Bara Ganesha

8. Jor: Akhaaraa Kedarnath

9. Lalji Pahalwaan: A Wrestler Whose Name is Known

10. Dangal: Bout Inauguration 11. Hanuman Shrine: Akhaaraa Gaya Seth

12. An Akhaaraa Portrait: Akhaaraa Gaya Seth 13. Sant Rams Murti: Akhaaraa Sant Ram

14. Guru and Chela: Akhaaraa Ram Singh 15. Vyayam: Akhaaraa Ram Singh

The Nature of Wrestling Nationalism Wrestling ideology is but one of many forms of nationalism in India today. On account of this it is necessary to situate wre stling within this larger arena of political rhetoric. The right-wing militant H indu organization known as the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) advocates ideal s that at first glance appear to be analogous to those held by wrestlers (Anders on 1987). The RSS advocates physical training and self-discipline. Youth camps a re held in urban neighborhoods where young men and boys are taught lathi shiksha (a form of martial art using staves). The emphasis at these camps is on group r egimentation and synchronized martial choreography. The ideology of the RSS is s tructured around a dogmatic interpretation of Hindu philosophy. Poetic verses an d slogans commemorate the heroic glory of epic characters such as Bhim, the Pand ava brother who possessed phenomenal strength, and Hanuman, whose martial exploi ts in the service of Ram are regarded as the essence of courageous duty and just aggression. In its pure form, RSS ideology is expressly sectarian and communal. Although the RSS has recently tried to placate non-Hindu minority groups in an effort to gain a greater degree of political legitimacy, it is still regarded by most people as militantly pro-Hindu. There is much in the RSS ideology which se ems to fit with wrestling ideals. In both arenas young men are taught self-contr ol and physical fitness. Personal strength is regarded in both systems as an ind ividualistic form of national strength. The focus on Hanuman as an icon of stren gth and self-sacrifice is found in both wrestling and RSS circles. Indeed, there are undoubtedly some wrestlers who find much to commend in the militant ideolog y of Hindu chauvinism. There are also probably a number of RSS sympathizers who are akhaaraa members. Nevertheless, and despite formal parallels, I found that t hose wrestlers who followed a strict regimen of daily training felt a great deal of ambivalence and some outright hostility toward RSS ideals. This may be expla ined with reference to the following points. First, at least in principle, wrest ling is non-sectarian. In other words its use of Hindu symbols to express nation al ideals sannyaas and Hanuman, for exampleare thought to /be general enough not t o alienate non-Hindu wrestlers. However naive this may be, many wrestlers claim that the Hanuman of the wrestling akhaaraa is symbolically and morally equivalen t to Ali, his heroic Islamic counterpart found in many Muslim akhaaraas. In any case, Hindu and Muslim wrestlers strive toward an ideological compromise by whic h they seek to transcend formal substantive differences in order to arrive at a common utopian future where the akhaaraa mediates between temple and mosque. Whi le there are some akhaaraas where Muslims and Hindus practice together, there ar e more where segregation along communal lines is the norm. This is often lamente d by both Hindu and Muslim senior wrestlers who point out that Gama, a Muslim wr estler who became world champion in the early part of this century, was trained by a Hindu guru. In spite of the incipiently sectarian tone of much wrestling rhet oricwhere images of Shiva, Shakti, and Pandava war heroes aboundthere is usually a lso a more pervasive tone of secular, non-

communal fraternity. For example, H. B. Singh recalls the glory of Arjun and Kri shnas martial exploits. He then writes that in the akhaaraawhich is modeled on the guru/chela relationship most perfectly manifest in Ram and Lakshmans relationshi p with Vishwamitra and Arjuns discipleship under Dronachariyathere should be no hin t of the vile, invidious distinctions fostered by caste, religion or community (1 972: 3). The second point of difference between the two ideologies is that RSS l eaders advocate militant reform while wrestlers advocate peaceful self-sacrifice . RSS leaders argue that Hinduism has been eroded by foreign religious teachings as well as by the postindependence state policy of secular democracy. RSS leade rs point to instances of affirmative action in education and legal discriminatio n to argue that the Hindu majority is being discriminated against. Public parade s on religious holidays have become powerful arenas for militant protest. Simila rly, violent confrontations occur around issues of temple and mosque constructio n and renovation. While the RSS leadership has toned down its militant rhetoric in recent years, one of the primary rationales for training young men in lathi d rill is to prepare them for defensive and offensive confrontation. The young RSS recruit is, in this regard, a Hindu soldier. Through physical training he devel ops his body. But unlike the wrestler, who develops his body to a primarily mora l and ethical end, the RSS recruit develops his body as a utilitarian means for a more expressly political purpose. Thus, for example, the RSS and the wrestler have quite different interpretations of Hanumans divinity. In Hanumans powerful ph ysique the wrestler sees strength derived from devotion and self-control. The RS S recruit is trained to see a Hanuman who does righteous battle against the forc es of evil. A third point of difference between the two forms of nationalist ide ology has to do with structural organization. The RSS is a religious organizatio n with a clearly defined leadership and an extensive bureaucratic and administra tive apparatus. It is an expressly reform-oriented movement with clear goals and explicit motives. Regional and local chapters are directly, if not always close ly, linked to a centralized command structure. While the RSS is not overtly invo lved in state-level party politics, it does lend considerable informal support t o those party factions and candidates who are sympathetic to its views. By virtu e of the fact that authority is vested in a few key individuals and ideologues, RSS nationalism is clearly articulated as a kind of militant manifesto. No wrest ling institution corresponds to the RSSs structure of leadership and network of n ational affiliation. Each akhaaraa is a unit unto itself. Indeed, the institutio nal structure of the akhaaraa is itself fairly weak, for the primary relationshi p which might be said to structure the world of wrestling is the bond that exist s between a disciple and his guru. The akhaaraa is a collectivety of individuals who subscribe to a particular regimen. Wrestling ideology is, in this regard, t he antithesis of the RSS ideology. Where the RSS ideology starts with a vision o f Hindu reform and imposes discipline on the body of the young recruit, the wres tling ideology starts with the discipline of the individual body and works towar d a somatic utopia. It is important to remember that wrestling is a sport, and m any wrestlers enjoy competition for the sake of competition. The ideological dim ension of

wrestling grows out of a fairly innocuous base, and, as we have seen, nationalis tic implications emerge through poetic interpretation. From the wrestlers perspec tive the moral enemy is everymans inner susceptibility to sensual seduction. From the RSS perspective the enemy lies without in the form of false religious teachin gs and a secular state ideology. The latter requires a bureaucratic structure of organized defense, the former a regimen of self-control. As a cautionary note i t must be said that I may be accused of reifying both forms of nationalism in or der to contrive a sharp dichotomy. If, in fact, some wrestlers are active member s of the RSS, how can one say that they subscribe to either one or the other ide ology? While I was in Banaras, regional leaders of the RSS asked members of one akhaaraa to put on a demonstration of wrestling techniques to inspire young recr uits congregated for a training camp. A local branch of the RSS sponsored a wres tling tournament in Banaras at which pro-Hindu speeches were made. Some wrestler s I knew marched in parades organized by RSS workers. In other words, it should be noted that on some points there is a high degree of overlap between wrestling values and the ideals of Hindu nationalism. Further historical analysis would u ndoubtedly show that at various times, and in specific parts of the country, the two have converged and diverged to different degrees. My point here is to highl ight the distinctive features of the wrestlers nationalistic vision given the nat ure of the modern world he lives in. In this sense there are enough wrestlers wh o consciously and exclusively subscribe to a unique way of life that centers on akhaaraa activities to justify speaking of wrestling as a distinct form of natio nalism. ~~~~~

Glossary ACHR, spiced vegetable pickle. ADITI, mother of the gods; earth. DITYA, sun; son o f the earth. AGNI, fire; god of fire associated with energy on ritual occasions. AHIMS, non-violence. AHIR, caste group whose traditional occupation is herding a nd dairying; synonymous with the label Yadav. AKHR, any association organized for the practice of a specific art or hobby, most often used to designate a wrestlin g gymnasium. AMRIT, elixir. NAND, satisfaction, peace, contentment. APARIGRAHA, s elf-sufficient, independent. RT PJ, ritual performed with fire, usually at a designa ted time. SAN, yogic exercises. SHRAM, monastery or hermitage. ASATYA, falsehood; a lie. TM, soul. YURVEDA, science of Hindu medicine (Ayurvedic). BB (BB J), title of endly respect used to refer to a sadhu or holy man. BAGAL DUBB, wrestling move. B AJRANG, title given to Hanuman meaning stout or strong. BAL, physical strength, brut e force. BN, pair-exercise done by pushing against a partners arms. BANRS, person fr om Banaras or a characteristic trait or fashion of the people from Banaras. BANY AN, tree (Ficus indica) that puts out aerial roots and has religious significanc e in folk religion; in Hindi, bargad. BART, grooms party in a wedding ceremony. BA TS, crystallized, aerated sugar drops used as prasad offerings in religious worshi p.

BESAN, gram pulse flour. BETHAK, deep knee bends. BHAGWN, generic term for God. B HAKT (BHAKTA), devotional religion (a practitioner of bhakti). BHKUR, a wrestling m ove. BHNG, hashish. BIND, auspicious mark placed on the forehead. BRAHMACHARYA, fi rst stage in the fourfold Hindu life cycle scheme of development; celibacy. BRAH MACHR, one who is celibate; a young disciple. BHMIHR, landed-gentry caste group. BRHM AN, member of the priestly caste. BUDDHI, wisdom. CHAMR, low-ranking untouchable ca ste; leather workers. CHAND, donation; collection. CHANDL, untouchable caste group, often those who work at cremation ground. CHAN, chickpeas, a common item in prasa d offerings. CHT, savory snack prepared in small specialty stores and sold in str eetside stalls. CHATN, spicy sauce; condiment. CHEL, disciple or follower. CHAUK, crossroads or central square. CHRAN, digestive powder sold in herbalist stores an d by street vendors; remedy for stomach disorders. CHRDR PAYJM, loose-fitting, drawst ring pants that are tight at the ankle and calf. DD, elder; grandfather; boss. DL, lentils. DAM KAS, stamina. DAND, jackknifing push-ups. DAND-THONK, chest beating and arm slapping, the prelude to a competitive bout.

DANGAL, wrestling tournament. DARBR, royal court. DARSHAN, the visual encounter w ith god in worship; to do darshan is to go see the image of god in a temple. DAS NM, name of the ten monastic orders founded by the followers of Shankaracharya. DW, wrestling move. DEVT, god. DHK, wrestling move. DHKUL, twists and flips practiced b y wrestlers to increase the strength and flexibility of their neck muscles. DHAR MASHL, rest house for pilgrims. DHARMA, religion; moral principle of religious dut y. DHTU, primary substance of the body; semen; mineral. DHOB PAT, wrestling move w hich resembles the movement of a washerman beating clothes. DHOL, drum, the shor t form of dholak; a two-sided drum beaten with a curved stick. DHOT, loincloth; l ong white garment. DISH MAIDN, open plain used for defecation. DOSH, imperfection, illness, mistake. GAD, weighted club used for exercise. GADD, mat, as in wrestlin g mat. GANESH, elephant-headed god; Shivas son. GAR NL, circular stone weight hung around the neck for exercising. GHARN, particular substyle of an art form associa ted with a specific artist and his or her disciples. GHT, river bank; usually des ignated for bathing, ritual performance, or cremation. GH, clarified butter. GOD, lap. GOSHL, cow protection shelter; cowshed. GWL, herder, dairyman.

GRIHASTHA, second stage in the fourfold Hindu life cycle scheme; a householder. GAL, narrow lane. GUR, hard molasses. GURUKUL, traditional school structured arou nd the principles of a guruchela relationship. HALD, turmeric. HATHA YOGA, branch of yoga which emphasizes rigorous physical postures. HTH, hand; measure of one s wing in exercise. HIJR, an Indian gender category which is neither male nor femal e; fulltime female impersonator who is a member of a social group. ISHTA DEVT, on es personal god. SHVAR PRANIDHN, focused concentration on god; closeness to god thr ough worship. JAJMN, the system of reciprocal exchange that obtains between member s of different castes; patron-client relationship. JNGHIY, briefs; wrestling trunk s. JT, powerful rural caste group in western Uttar Pradesh, Haryana, and Punjab. JHR, wrestling move. JVANMUKTI, having left life; a hermits attitude. JOR, wrestlin g when done as a form of exercise. JOR, pair of wooden clubs. KLJNGH, wrestling move . KALARIPPAYATTU, southwestern Indian martial art. KALIYUG, dark and final epoch in Hindu cosmology; a time when immorality reigns and social institutions are s ubverted. KAL, art. KAMDAMAN, controlled sensuality; continence. KAPH, phlegm. KA RMA, fate; work; moral work. KASE LANGOT KE, celibate; firm or tight g-string. K HD, rough homespun cotton.

KHR, rice-puddinglike drink often served at Yadav weddings. KHUL DANGAL, free or o pen wrestling competition. KHURK, diet. KRIY, action; work. KSHATRIYA, varna categ ory used loosely to designate a number of caste groups who identify themselves a s warriorlike or of royal heritage. KUMBHAK, breath control leading to stamina. KUNDALIN, the experience of enlightenment achieved through yoga and meditation; v ital energy which is ignited through disciplined yogic practices. KUND, pond; tank . KURT, a long, loose-fitting, uncuffed shirt. KUSHT, wrestling in its competitive manifestation. LADD, besan flour sweets often used as prasad. LANGOT, g-string, worn as an undergarment by men and as a protective covering by wrestlers during practice, worn underneath the janghiya. LANGR DAUR, running like a monkey; an exe rcise done by wrestlers in the pit. LASS, milkshake made of yogurt, milk, and sug ar. LL, divine play. LINGAM, iconic, phallic form of Lord Shiva. LOH, iron. MAHDEV, Great God; Shiva. MAHANT, abbot; head of a monastic order. MAHRJ, honorific title used to refer to a holy man or Brahman. MAHVR, Great Courageous (or Hero); Hanuman . MAIDN, open plain; central park area. MALLA, classical term for wrestler. MALLA YUDDHA, classical wrestling combat. MALLAVIDY, wrestling knowledge. MANDIR, Hindu temple. MANTRA, secret, sacred slogan.

MARTH, term used loosely to refer to the people of Maharashtra. MASJID, Muslim pla ce of worship; mosque. MAST, intoxicated with pleasure. MY, illusion. MAZDR (MAZDOO R), laborer. MEHANDI (MEND), henna; vegetable dye. MITT, earth. MOKSHA, release; s alvation achieved through self-realization. MULTN, wrestling move. MRTI, image of g od. NG, cobra. NG, one of the Dasnami orders known for its martial form of ascetici sm. N, barber caste. NL, stone weight. NM KAMN, to make a name for oneself. NM, margos tree (Melia azadirachta). NIRODH, retention, control; often used to mean birth control. NIYAM, rules of right conduct; fundamental principle in yoga. NR, fake; f raud. OJ (OJAS), the luster of vitality or virility. PN, a betel-leaf, lime-paste , betel-nut, spice, and condiment concoction, mildly narcotic. PANCHYAT, a quorum ; council of five. PAINTR, wrestling stance. PRAS, stone that can turn base metal to gold. PAW, a quarter of a liter. PAHALWN, wrestler. PECH, countermove in wrest ling. PHARS, heavy hoe or spade. PPAL, Ficus religiosa.

PITTA, bile. PRADHN, chief; head official. PRNA, one of the five vital airs; vital breath. PRNYMA, disciplined or controlled breathing. PRASD, ritual food offerings. RAI, gentry caste group. RJ, king; lord. RJAS, one of the three personality character istics which also characterizes certain food items; agitated, aggressive, hot. RJ PT, an encompassing caste category which is roughly equivalent to the varna Kshat riya category; those who belong to a martial caste. RASA, juice; sauce; soup. RI TU, season. SDHU, mendicant; one who lives on alms and has renounced the world. S AKH, wrestling move. SALM, salute to the pit. SAMDHI, condition of absolute release from worldly constraints; shrines dedicated to those who have achieved this cond ition. SAMJ, society; social organization. SANTOSH, satisfaction, contentment. SA NNYS (SANNYSI), world renunciation (world renouncer). SAT GURU, true or great guru . SATSANG, fellowship; fraternity. SVAPNA DOSH, wet dream; night emission of sem en. SPH, a head cloth. SARWAJANIK, public. STTVA, one of the three personality charac teristics which also characterizes various food items; cool, calm, white, peacef ul. SATYA, truth; truthfulness. SAWR, being a passenger; the superior position in wrestling; type of exercise. SEER, one-fourth of a given measure.

SHAKT, divine, supernatural energy. SHAKT SHL, an aura of energized strength which c haracterizes an invigorated wrestler. SHNT, peace and tranquility. SHARR, body. SH AUK, hobby. SHRSHSAN, head stand. SHAUCH, cleaning out impurities; defecation and urination. SHDRA, varna category designating menial, service castes. SINDR, vermil ion. SUKRAM PAYAS, bright milk; semen. SRYA, sun. SRYA NAMASKR, salute to the sun; a type of exercise. SWDHYYA, self-control; study. SWGAT, welcome; to honor. TAMAS, one of the three personality characteristics which is also characteristic of vario us food items; dull, dark, lethargic. TAP (TAPAS), austerity; sensory control; m ortification. THKUR, honorific meaning lord or master; often used as a form of ad dress by wealthy Rajputs. THAND, a cooling drink. THEKEDR, contractor. TKA, mark of vermilion paste placed on the forehead by a priest during rituals and darshan. T IL, very small seed from the sesame plant. URAD, type of lentil. USTD, teacher; o ne who is proficient in a particular art or skill. VNAR, monkey. VARNA, color; sy stem of ranked classification which provides the model for caste stratification. VT, one of the humors of the body. VYU, wind, air.

VIBHTI, ashes; power; energy. VRYA, semen. TITWA, character; personal identity. VYYM, th akhaaraa but with a slight connotation of ling gym. YAM, first principle in yoga; root . ZAMNDR, wealthy landowner; landed gentry

VRSNYAM PAYAS, virile seedlike milk. VYAK exercise. VYYMSHL, gymnasium; synonymous wi an exercise gym rather than a wrest meaning. YONI, vagina; base; source of northern India before independence.

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